The Warrior
by Bibliowitch
Summary: After ten years of war and two years of riots, Illéa isn't the country King Maxon and Queen America hoped it would be during their reign as rulers. The people are starving and their rule is failing. Thankfully, Prince Asher is finally of age to be married. Unfortunately, the palace has never encountered a woman like Eris Black.
1. Chapter One - Orders and Puke

"This must be a joke."

"What does it say?" Patch jabbed me impatiently in the lower back. Throwing a scowl his way, I turned back to the colourful poster pinned up to the broken lamppost.

" _'The Selection is an exciting opportunity for all of Illéa. At the end of the process, our beloved Prince Asher will have a wife, and our great nation will have a new Princess, and a future Queen.'_ What a load of bollocks."

My best friend sniggered at my back, eyeing the paper like he was trying to make sense of the jumbled lettering. He gave up after a moment, and instead occupied himself with scrubbing the soot out of his thick head of black curls.

Scowling again as I waved the cloud of black dust from beneath my nose, I read on.

" _'All girls between 17 and 21 may apply, no matter your caste, heritage, or income. Selected girls will be chosen at random on national television. We are very proud to welcome a whole host of diverse women from all over the country.'_ "

"Diverse in the sense that they'll range from _kinda_ rich to _filthy_ rich?" Patch snorted, busy patting down his overalls. His mother hated him tracking the dirt through the house.

Grinning, I continued, " _'Every single young woman that applies will receive-'_ Holy shit!" Patch wheeled round. " _'Will receive a small fee for their efforts and this wonderful act of patriotism.'_ They're offering money!"

"They're tryna bribe the whole nation?!"

"I guess they know there won't be many applications, and certainly not from normal women below the third caste. This'll tempt a lot of the desperate ones."

"It doesn't say nothing else?"

"Just instructions on how to apply. Every eligible woman will receive an application, and you have to give it into your local Service Office this Saturday, next Saturday the names will be drawn."

Patch huffed, shrugged, and turned to leave. After casting my eye over the colourful paper a final time, I hurried to catch up to him.

Whoever had tacked up the poster had done it in the dead of night, because it hadn't been there when we'd walked home yesterday from work, and there'd been a thick rim of people crowded round it this morning, too many to risk being late to the mines.

"Will Andrea apply?" I ask him, beginning the long process of whacking the soot off my own overalls.

"Wrong gender," he chuckles, scrubbing now at the dark bronze of his skin. "If it'd been a Princess, she might have tried her luck. But she's twenty-two anyway, missed it by a year."

I grunted in way of reply and scrubbed my fingers along my scalp, working the dirt out of my thick hair. Hopefully there'd be enough hot water left back at the house for me to have a shower when I got in.

"What about _your_ big sister?" Patch mumbled, wary of broaching the topic.

"Mania," I growled her name, "Has not showed up for a while. Though I suppose we'll receive her application, considering the orphanage was her last known address, and she's twenty-one."

"And Nike?"

"Just turned seventeen last month, she's eligible." I snorted, "She'll be thrilled."

We took one of the main streets that led out of the city centre. Not much of a centre, what with it being just a couple of crumbling buildings around a big cobbled square that doubled as a marketplace. Not much of a city, come to think of it, given that it was so run down. Half of the houses were unlived in, half of the buildings destroyed, power shortages were frequent, hot water hard to come by.

A really charming home, our little city of Fames.

"I heard about Billy." Patch said suddenly, "Forgot to mention. His ma said he'll be back at work next week, if things run fine. Medicine was dropped off on the doorstep. Anonymous."

"The Medicine Women?" I frowned.

"They're assuming." He shrugged his big shoulders, "But anyway, he'll be back in the mines late next week."

"That's good to know."

"Yeah, six lashes won't ruin him, but I'm sure it's gotta sting."

I remained silent, remembering all too well the sting of the whips that Gruks carried round, pinned to their belts. Your brain blocks out the agony; too much adrenaline to notice much of anything. It's the weeks following that you struggle with. Fire ripping up your back every time you moved. Patch glanced down at me, winced, and hurried to fill in the silence.

"Are we going to the Pits tonight?"

"Might as well. If I get seriously injured tonight, I've got until Sunday to recover."

"Smart." He smirked.

"Undiscovered genius." I chuckled.

We came to the cross-roads that would lead us in separate directions. We'd lived a few streets apart our entire lives. Patch's street had a few occupied houses on it, mine was completely empty, our large house standing lonesome at the end of a long street nestled into a backdrop of trees, the rest of the buildings little more than burned out shells.

"Turn round, then." He motioned, and I spun.

He swatted down my back, beating off the excess soot as best he could. The coal mines weren't exactly very clean, and Elizabeth had smacked me round the head enough times for trekking dirt in.

Patch's big hands assaulted my ass, and he spent an unreasonable amount of time patting over the denim there.

"All right, all right!" I hissed, twisting back round to punch him in the chest.

He laughed, rocking back on his heels, before spinning himself.

"Your ass is just too tempting, Princess."

I thumped him hard in the back and wheezed as a billow of smoke hit me right between the eyes. He grunted under the blow, but soon laughed.

"I'll kick yours one day, Patch Sallow."

"You just say that because mine is better than yours."

"Whatever."

* * *

"How's Billy?" Nike asked as soon as she walked through the door. She stomped her boots on the mat, dislodging all the dried mud before tugging them off. She pulled her soft orange hair back into a tight bun before entering the kitchen; a habit she got from working on the farms.

"Patch said he'll be back in the mines by next week. He only got six lashes."

I was stood at the kitchen counter, stirring the stew that would serve our large family for a couple of days. Huxley was perched on my hip, her head on my shoulder, thumb stuck in her mouth. I'd been telling her a story.

"Good," Nike nodded. "Damn Gruks, throwing their weight about. So much for law enforcement. They were in the farms today, questioning people about stolen vegetables."

"They didn't hurt you?" I glanced up sharply, eyes narrowing.

"No," she shook her head before calling a greeting to Rocket and Hunter. They sat drawing at the kitchen table, their blonde heads bent low. "But they did drag David away; he denied it, but they told Susan they had solid evidence."

"Susan?"

"The new head farmer. Nathaniel quit last week after his daughter was arrested for getting pregnant."

"Absolute bullshit." I growled.

Hunter and Rocket gasped, heads popping up at the naughty word. I apologised to them quickly, and they went back to their drawings, satisfied.

"What do you expect though, Ris?" Nike hip-bumped me away from the stove. Good job too; my cooking skills were seriously lacking. "The riots stopped five years ago, but it isn't like the country has recovered."

"I expect those Royal bast-" I cut a look at the twins, "Royal _kathármata_ to take a little pay cut, to be honest."

"You know I don't speak German." She grinned.

"It was Greek."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes.

"Did you hear about the Selection?" I asked her, still amused.

I plonked Huxley down on the counter, twisting her little body so I could braid her long honey blonde hair. Her pale skin, blotchy from lack of sunlight, felt dry under my fingers as I smoothed her forehead. Malnutrition, that was. Her skin and hair were both rough to the touch, though at her age, she should have been softer than freshly washed linen. No such luck.

The roughness of her locks against my calloused fingers always made my insides boil.

"Yeah," Nikes laughed too. "The Prince is ready for a wife, so I guess we all have to stop and stare in awe, right?"

"Typical." I grinned, "What do you say, baby sister? You want a royal brat for a husband?"

"I don't even like boys." She snorted, "Let alone that stuck up little-" she glanced at the twins too. "Culus."

"I don't speak Latin." I smirked, "Could you repeat in English?"

"Liar," she lunged at me with the ladle, but I ducked swiftly and jabbed her in the side. We laughed, and Huxley let out a timid twitter of a giggle. I pecked her on the cheek, and she batted her big hazel eyes at me.

"Will you two quiet it down?" Elizabeth stuck her head into the room, her dark eyes narrowed with annoyance. "When will the dinner be done?" As a pretty large woman, in terms of body weight, she was constantly hungry. Though I didn't know how she'd maintained the weight all these years; we were constantly broke and constantly on the edge of starvation.

"When we call, probably."

"You chatting back, Eris?" She asked me, raising her eyebrows. Her dark skin rarely allowed any colour to leech into her flesh, but she managed a faint red tinge whenever I angered her. Which was pretty regularly.

"Nope." I smiled.

"Good, because people are starting to talk, what with how often you sleep over at Patch's. Wouldn't want those rumours to escalate now, would we?" she smiled broadly and disappeared out the door.

"I honestly love her," I told Nike with a sniff. "Like, I think she could seriously replace our mother. Do you think I should order some adoption papers from the Service Office?"

"Shut up." Nikes rolled her eyes.

* * *

"You'll be heading to the Service Office tomorrow." Elizabeth announced at dinner, pointing a spoon at Nikes and I in turn.

"For adoption papers?" I asked blandly, and Nike kicked me under the table.

"What?" she frowned, "No. With your application letters."

"What?!" we both exploded, shocked and outraged.

"Don't even start," she held up a large hand, glaring around the whole table as if she expected the kids to argue as well. They were all staring on though, all six of them. Little Fern, the seventh, threw around her pudgy fists in anger at the lack of attention. "Not one of you are gonna be picked and we get some money out of it anyhow. So don't start arguing."

"Tomorrow is Saturday!" I exclaimed.

"I'm well aware, thank you."

"It's the only day we get off!" Nike huffed, throwing her spoon down into her empty bowl.

"And you'll spend it earning money for our family, by signing up to this ridiculous competition." Elizabeth smiled widely, and went back to her stew. She'd added an extra scoop too, the big cow.

Clarabelle tugged on my sleeve to gain my attention, and when I turned to watch her sign her words, she looked confused. Her terracotta skin was my biggest envy.

She signed, "What competition?"

I signed back with a smile. "It's something hosted by the palace when a Prince comes of age. He wants a wife, so a girl from each province will live with him until he can pick one from among them." Clarabelle pulled a face of disgust; outraged. I signed again; "I know."

Henry was giving a detailed description of the history of the Selection, shoving his round spectacles up his nose as he did so. Nikes was nodding, interested if a little confused at his vast knowledge.

Slumping back into my seat, I scowled down into my empty bowl.

Rocket was on one side of me, scrubbing a hand through her short golden hair, Hunter next to her shoving his long golden hair back. I smiled, despite how annoyed I still was. The 7 year olds were little terrors, but I loved them dearly.

Rocket stopped Henry from chattering on with a kick under the table. He yelped, and Elizabeth snapped at Rocket, but the small girl just grinned at our carer. With a laugh, I started to collect our bowls so they could be washed. It was Henry and Clarabelle's turn today, and I ordered them up out of their seats so they could complete their tasks.

"Eris," Elizabeth eyed me suspiciously as I piled the bowls in my arms, "No trip to the Pits tonight. I can't have you bloodied and bruised tomorrow."

Again, I went to argue, but she cut me a look that promised she'd kick me out for the night, so I shut my mouth and turned away, glaring holes in the scratched and dirty floor as I went.

* * *

"This is the absolute stupidest thing I've ever done." I grumbled around a yawn.

Nikes was plucking at the threadbare periwinkle dress Elizabeth had wrestled her into half an hour before. "You once jumped out of a second floor window because you thought faeries would carry you."

"Well, I mean..." I huffed, "Second, second stupidest."

She chuckled, and reached into the pram she was pushing so that she could prop Fern's bottle back in her mouth. The small demon had woken up when Elizabeth had been too loud about getting us ready, so we'd been ordered to bring her with us.

Despite the fact we were a full half an hour early for the Service Office opening, we weren't the only ones already present. This was the only Office within a fifty mile radius, and so there was a whole assortment of women here. You could pick out the wealthy from the poor; we were positively shabby next to them in their fine clothes. They also wore make-up; a sure fire way of telling the rich from the poor. We had no need of such frivolous things. Especially since we could barely afford food.

We took our place in line. Fern was restless, having been woken too early, so I plucked her from the pram and rocked her in my arms, holding her bottle to her mouth. At ten months, she could only eat very soft foods, but still had a lot of formula, and milk when we could afford it.

"Weren't we supposed to fill these out ourselves?" Nike frowned at the sealed applications that Elizabeth had handed over as we'd been heading out the doors.

"It's illegal not to."

"Then I guess Miss Elizabeth has just seriously broken the law." She tore into them, and I smirked at her. "What? I'll seal them back up!"

"Yeah, right. Why are we even here?" I growled, rocking Fern as she started to wiggle insistently. "As if Sevens are getting into the Selection, for crying out loud."

"I dunno," Nike mused, brushing back her auburn hair. She was given a much nicer colour than I was at birth. "These applications are pretty impressive."

 _"What?!"_

"She's lied grossly," she shook her head, her dark eyes flicking up to meet mine with exasperation. "She's said that we speak seven languages between us. I mean, we do, but we don't speak them fluently, like she's put down. Also that you can play piano, violin and can sing. Which is an outright lie.. She's said that I can play the cello, and the flute, which is also a lie considering I only know the National Anthem."

"It doesn't matter, we're Sevens. A Six has never even entered the competition, let alone a Seven. The whole competition is a lie; we all know they're picked carefully before they're announced, and not at random. So we're fine."

Laughter burst out of Nike so suddenly it made me jump, so loud that people turned to stare at her. She clamped down on the noise, because the Gruks wandering up and down the line were eyeing her curiously, but she continued to snort into her palm.

"What is it, you weirdo?"

"Elizabeth has written down about you; _'I'm good-mannered and patient, with a friendly, wholesome attitude towards others'_." She snorted again into her hand.

"Prick." I kicked her in the shin, scowling. She had the nerve to wipe invisible tears from beneath her eyes.

Raised voices down the line drew my attention as Nike went back to reading. Two women seemed to be squabbling. They looked to be Fives; their clothes were faded, second-hand no doubt, but they wore tiny amounts of make-up. Poor, but not so much that they couldn't afford the occasional luxury.

It seemed one of them had bumped into the other, and had spilled a flask of coffee onto the other's dress. The spiller was apologising profusely, while the spillee was simmering with rage.

The spillee – whose friends were moving in to back her up, like a pack of wild dogs – raised her voice to a shout, and shoved the girl in the shoulder.

Gruks looked over, men and women in black uniforms, weapons hooked into their belts, armour gear on. They wouldn't step forward to stop the violence before it happened; they never did. The Gruks would wait, smiling pleasantly, as the situation escalated, and when it did achieve proper violence, they would swoop in and use brutality to put them down.

It happened exactly as I predicted. I'd watched it too many times to be wrong.

I didn't know which one threw the first punch, but after that first shove, violence built in the air like a coming storm. Another shove was given, and then another, and then the crack of a slap filled the dull morning air, and after that a shriek, and then they were grappling with each other.

The friends hung back, three of them dancing away as they spotted the Gruks moving in. The two girls didn't notice, or didn't care about the coming officers.

A female and a male Gruk strutted forward, still grinning as the girls shrieked and howled. The female reached in, grabbed one girl by the hair and yanked her back, tossing her to the floor with ease. The girl fell heavily, and cried out in pain.

The male grabbed the other girl as she lunged, and slapped her hard around the face.

A shout of protest rose to my lips, but Nike was already beside me, scooping Fern out of my arms and clamping her nails into the skin of my elbow.

The girl on the floor tried to scramble up, and the female Gruk yanked her lightening rod from her belt and jabbed it into the girl's side. She froze, shook, dribbled all down her chin, and dropped to the floor as soon as the rod was removed.

They were both yanked up by the Gruks, the frazzled one picked up by two – she wouldn't be walking for a good long while – and the other girl led sobbing along. They were bundled into the back of a black van with the Illéan flag on the side.

Gruks closed in again, but they went for the three friends this time. The girls hadn't actually gotten involved, but they'd supported the unrest, so they would be punished for the unrest, too.

One Gruk grabbed the applications from every single one of them, and – right there in their faces – ripped them right up.

Insides boiling, I turned back to Nike with a snarl on my lips.

"You're too willing to get involved." She shook her head at me and bounced an agitated Fern on her hip.

"It's _wrong."_ I snapped.

"You think I don't know that? Of course it is, but I'd rather it was them than you, Ris. Please, just calm, all right?"

"Yeah," I blew out a harsh breath. "Yeah all right."

The line of women was decidedly quiet after that. The Gruks patrolled up and down, smiling smugly as they inspected us too closely.

Down the line, a few of the male Gruks were carrying out inspections to ensure that nobody was carrying weapons or any explosive devices. The sight made my fists clench; as if anyone other than the wealthy could buy weapons of any sort. They were doing it to prove a point and it was obviously an excuse to feel up the curvier women in the line.

I wanted to storm over and throw a punch, but Nike kept a firm grip on my wrist.

A beady eyed Gruk approached us, passed an eye over our bodies, and turned away. Nike was curvier than me, with rounder hips, broader shoulders and fuller breasts, but she was still very skinny, and they weren't interested in the poor women.

He turned away, then turned back suddenly.

"Whose baby is that?" he asked, voice a snap of authority.

"Not ours." Nike replied quickly so that I couldn't retort. Her hand had become iron around my wrist, nails biting deep into my skin as a warning.

"Well then, whose is it?" he growled.

"We're from the orphanage," I told him, voice a sneer. "She was dropped on the doorstep. We dunno whose she is."

"From the orphanage, ay?" he smirked now. "No wonder you're so skinny. At least you'll have one less mouth to feed soon; She won't live through the winter."

"You won't live through this conversation if you carry on talking."

Nike let out a low sigh of exasperation.

The Gruk was staring at me, his greasy hair shining in the low morning light, beady eyes shocked at the steel in my voice. For one brief moment, he gulped fearfully.

"The orphanage, huh?" he glanced between the two of us, "And orange hair? You must be Eris Black."

"You've heard of me." I smiled at him, showing all teeth.

"You're the one that snapped that man's spine." He eyed me warily.

"You have any solid evidence to go with that vicious accusation?"

"Everyone knows you did it." He glanced around, "Everyone knows Jax has it in for you."

"Well then, if everyone knows, you better run along and arrest Jax, before he hurts little old me."

"Are you talking back to a Guard?" he asked, his voice a little stronger than it had been before. He straightened his spine, plastering on a glare. "Well, ma'am, are you?"

"Not a Guard, no!" I gasped in faked shock, "A _Gruk_ , however..."

He balled his fist and shoved it forward, striking me right in the center of my stomach. The breath left me, and I bent a little with the force of the blow as pain blossomed through my torso.

He gave me a rough shove in the shoulders and Nike caught me as I stumbled.

The little worm didn't even look at me, just turned and stomped off, footsteps hurried. The women who had turned to watch the spectacle looked away, faces a little pale at the display of violence.

Straightening up, I rotated my shoulders to work out the pain in my abdomen. A sharp jab went through my muscles as I flexed too quickly, but after working them for another few moments, the pain was reduced to a dull throb.

"Are you okay?" a woman in front asked, she was grey haired and tanned a honey gold, and her eyes were kind. "I'm a Medicine Woman, would you like me to take a look?"

The girl beside her, clearly her granddaughter, was throwing fearful glances towards the Gruks.

Nike and I smothered gasps. Medicine Women were illegal; any form of drug or medication was strictly controlled by the government pharmacies, but it was impossibly dear to go to one. Medicine Women were a cheap alternative, even if they couldn't provide the best care.

"Best not to get yourself in trouble," I murmured to her, "He can't punch very well; it'll only bruise."

"You were brave, standing up to him for your sister." She bent low over Fern's pram and allowed Fern to grab onto her finger and nibble at it.

"Just stupid, I think." I said with a smile.

"You got that right." Nike grumbled.

"If ever you need anything, Eris Black." The wizened woman turned to me, her eyes as grey as her hair. "You can find me at the Soot Market, ask for Valerie."

"Thank you." I murmured.

She turned away with a respectful nod, wrapping a strong arm around her granddaughter's shoulders. Nike and I shared a wide eyed glance.

My little sister reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up to inspect the red outline of the Gruk's fist. She shook her head, sighed at me, and tugged the shirt back down.

The Service Office opened its doors with a clatter, and before they allowed anyone else in they permitted Gruks to enter so that they could control the crowds inside too.

The whole ordeal seemed to drag. We shuffled inside, moving at a snail's pace. Women filed in with applications and left with small rectangle cheques clutched in their fists.

When we got into the building, there was still more queuing, lining up for a small booth where a man sat with a big clunky camera, taking photos as the hopeful girls sat on a stool and smiled widely.

Fern, at this point, apparently got frustrated with the lack of attention, and started squalling loudly. She received irritated looks from a few rich women, and the Gruks were glaring, but it wasn't like there was anything to be done. I bounced her on my hip, hushing her and crooning quietly, but she didn't let up.

There was no more formula to offer her, so we simply had to grit our teeth and endure the hollering.

Nike snatched her from me, but even her soothing voice couldn't coax the little demon into silence.

The cameraman waved us quickly forward, looking eager to get us out of the way. He looked extremely bored, but took his work seriously apparently, because he took the time to arrange Nikes into a flattering pose, perching her on the small stool and tucking a few stray hairs back into the twisted bun Elizabeth had done for her.

After smoothing her dress over her knees and down her shins, he stepped back, told her to smile widely, and snapped the picture. She jumped up, thanked him for his patience, and whisked Fern out of my arms, holding the monster on her hip and swinging her gently from side to side.

I stomped to the stool and simply plonked down onto it, and the cameraman jumped up with a scandalised gasp.

"No, no, no." he shook his head as he hurried from behind his camera and started to reorganise my posture.

"Don't you just need my face?" I grumbled as he urged me to straighten my spine and draw my shoulders back, telling me to 'tighten up my core', I dunno what that meant, but I tensed my stomach and he seemed satisfied with that.

"It's a full body shot, dear." He informed me as he moved round to face me, then he tapped my knees, ordering me to draw them together, and then to twist my whole body to the side so I was sat at an angle. "This is your good side." He smiled, like he was doing me a favour by informing me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

He shook his head, and then drew my long hair over my shoulders, arranging the messy curls as best he could down my chest.

Retreating behind the camera, he stooped to look through the lens. He looked up at me, told me to lift my chin. To smile wide, but wait, not _that_ wide.

I glanced at Nike so that I could roll my eyes, and while she was grinning at me broadly, she was also wrestling with a wiggling Fern, whose screaming had reached a brand new pitch of severity.

The cameraman told me to look into the camera, ordering me to smile, _softly_ he urged, and then bent to inspect through the lens again. He nodded, reached to press the button.

Before he managed it, there was an awfully loud burp, a hiccup, a gurgle, the splatter of liquid hitting a surface, and then a shriek.

I glanced to the side, saw Fern smiling contentedly, the trail of white sick splashed all over Nike's chest, and watched as her face became a startling shade of green. A chorus of low groans erupted from almost everyone gathered around, and the women surrounding Nike took several cautious steps back.

Bursting into laughter was the first thing I did, my spine curving a little as it spewed right out of me. I could feel the smile dominating my face as my sister hopped and danced around and held a smug Fern at arm's length.

The camera gave a flash, and I glanced at it, still snorting through my nose with amusement. The man gave me a nod and a smile, looking a little grey himself as I hurried to take Fern from Nike's arms.

Fern giggled happily as I tickled under her chin, still chortling as Nike grimaced and stuck out her tongue at the baby.

"Here," the man handed our pictures to me, "You were laughing in yours and we're not allowed to retake, but it isn't ruined."

"Thanks." I nodded, and we made our way to the front desk. Nike wearing a permanent grimace while I smothered Fern with kisses, rewarding her for a job well done. She giggled happily at the attention.

The woman behind the counter took our applications, stapled the pictures to the right envelopes, and only when she'd tucked them away did she hand over a wad of tissues with a wrinkled nose.

We left the Service Office, Nike scrubbing at the ruined dress and her damp skin while I pushed the pram.

By the time we'd gotten home, Nike was glaring viciously at me, because I had a tendency to burst out laughing whenever I looked at the dark mark spread over her dress.

Nike swore at me in Latin for the rest of the day, especially when I found some sweets for Fern to suckle on.

* * *

Thank you for reading! xo

Words:

Vlákas – Greek for idiot.

Kathármata – Greek for bastards.

Culus – Asshole in Latin


	2. Chapter Two - Decisions

"Okay, dear, we're down to the last couple." King Maxon smiled at his wife opposite, sat at the dining table they'd been hunched at for about five whole hours.

"Thank the skies," Marlee whined, rubbing at the small of her back as she gave the table a tired smile.

"I feel like my ribs are going to snap in my chest," May complained, sighing dramatically.

Queen America laughed, pouring her sister and closest friend a cup of tea each before she riffled again through the applications.

"Can't we just choose one at random?" May asked hopefully, brushing back the pale auburn of her hair.

"Absolutely not," Aspen replied, giving May a stern look. "This is for security reasons, we can't have trouble makers and law breakers in our home, can we now?"

"Still, we are technically lying to the public." America rolled her eyes, "We told them it would be a random selection of women."

"Yes, a random selection of carefully picked, pre-approved women." Aspen gave her a grin, and she huffed an exasperated laugh.

"Mei Baxton is a strong character, she'll convince the nation that this was a random choosing." Maxon assured her.

"And plus, we've added a whole assortment of women." Aspen gestured to the already thick pile, "It's much fairer than when you were picked, Mer. There'll be lots of fives and sixes."

"Not that Asher will be pleased with that." May muttered.

"Well," America sighed, leaning back and sipping at her tea, "Perhaps they'll teach him a thing or two."

She shared a knowing look with her husband. Their eldest son was strong-willed and stubborn, and hadn't been thrilled with this idea in the first place. He'd dragged his feet throughout the majority of the process, and he'd been drunk for the rest of it. One of his demands was that only pretty girls could be allowed, and only those who served a purpose. Such as those who were famous, or had a fortune, or had political ties.

America sighed; it would not be a fun experience for her son. Not unless the girls were willing to get very drunk and sleep with him.

Shaking herself from the gloomy thoughts, she made an effort to look excited by the swift approaching competition. This wasn't just for the benefit of her eldest son.

"Ah, the province of Dakota." Aspen announced, and started flicking through the applications. That pile was one of the smallest.

These had already been combed through by other's, who had eliminated all girls who were clearly not right for the role. Sadly, that meant all the hideously ugly women had been thrown out early. All the women with lots of misspellings on their applications, or who had looked to be bored in their photos. Every single application had to have something special, such as a second language, or an instrument played, or a subject they'd excelled in at school.

America was narrowing down the contestants from the province of St George, and settled on three possibilities. She leaned over and tapped Maxon, presenting them to him. He looked them over, nodding, before shaking his head at one and pushing it away.

"You can make the final choice, dear." He offered, waving them back.

She glanced them over one last time and made a snap decision. That would do. She handed that final candidate to Marlee, who carefully arranged it in the pile.

"The province of Dakota has very little to offer." Aspen sighed after a while of silence and fluttering paper.

"It's a small, poor province." Maxon responded, eyes on his own pile of applicants.

"It's not that small," May interjected, "But it does mostly consist of fives and below, and one of my friends who lives there says that the poorer castes were refusing to sign up as a protest, regardless of the small fees they were getting."

The news was troubling, but nobody wanted to comment.

"These are interesting," Aspen murmured after a moment, holding two applications alongside each other. "Two sisters, both orphans, sevens."

"Sevens?" America blinked, and for a moment felt a pang of regret at the hardships they must face every day.

"The youngest works at the farms. But the older works in the coal mines. She's 18, and has been there since 14."

"Poor dear." Marlee simpered.

"I have never in my life seen hair this orange." Aspen smiled, shaking his head as he turned the photo to show the table.

"Nor that curly." May laughed.

"Is there a criminal report for that one?" Maxon extended his hand for the file, and Aspen handed it over immediately.

"No, all the ones with criminal records were removed."

"Even ones who had the crimes done to them?"

"Yes, any criminal activity related to them, whether they're victims or witnesses, were removed. If the press went digging and found things like that, well, it was considered too high a risk." Aspen shrugged.

"Then I wonder how she displays these bruises so blatantly without being questioned? Or the incident reported?"

America reached for the file, and Maxon handed it over. She stared down at the photo while Marlee peered over her shoulder.

It was a lovely photo; the girl was laughing. Sat on a stool with her hands on her knees, her posture proud. Her hair, of course, was her defining feature. The purest orange America had ever seen, with wild, untamed curls that fell all the way to her waist.

But there was no doubt Maxon was right. Her knuckles were scuffed, a light bruise still graced her right eye, and her bottom lip was split.

"Throw her out, then." America went to hand it back to Aspen, who was nodding, but at that moment a small slip of paper fell out from behind the photo and slid all the way down the polished table to stop in front of May.

She blinked and scooped it up, reading quickly. "It's a request from the photographer." She frowned. "He asks if, with the permission of the palace and with the girl, that he could keep the photograph. He says it's one of the most interesting he has ever taken, and would like to keep it for his portfolio."

"Really?" America frowned.

Maxon took it from her hands and lingered a little longer on the photograph. "I can see why it would appeal to an artist's eye. The wide range of colours; the black of her eyes, the white of her skin, the orange of her hair. It's a perfect shot; taken at just the right moment when her posture is maintained but there's the joy of whatever she's laughing at."

Aspen was glancing over her application, "She speaks four languages."

"I thought you said she was a Seven?"

"Her mother was a soldier, she was brought up a two until the age of 10."

"And then?"

"And then her mother went to fight on the front lines." Aspen's voice was soft, Marlee's smile faded. Everyone knew what happened to those who'd gone to fight the in the Crimson War. "Black." He frowned, "Officer Black?" he shook his head.

"What is it?"

"The name rings a bell, but it doesn't have her biological mother's name on the application." He shrugged, dismissing it. "Regardless, it's a nice picture and she clearly has a sharp mind, but it doesn't excuse the fact that she's clearly involved in some sort of drama that the palace doesn't need."

"We want the Selection to be juicy," May disagreed, "We want it to be entertaining. We don't want a bunch of boring old girls, there'll be nothing to look at. Plus, Asher won't be pleased if they're all dull."

"Nice to have you in my corner, Aunt May." America's head snapped up in time to see her son stroll into the room, smirking lazily with his hands in his pockets. His hair was a mess and his suit unbuttoned, but his eyes were sharp. Good, he hadn't been drinking today then.

"Asher," Maxon sighed, "You're not supposed to see any of the girls before the Report this Saturday, or else your reactions won't be genuine."

"The only way I'll react is if one of them is topless in her photo." Asher snorted and lounged against the back of May's chair, dropping down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Are you all having fun deciding my future for me, then?" his voice was amused, but there was no mistaking the annoyance in his eyes.

"There are some fine candidates here, Asher." America told him.

"As if they all don't lie on their forms," he rolled his eyes. "Which province are you choosing at the moment?"

"Dakota." May replied, "We're just examining one girl's application, it's quite interesting."

"How so?"

"For one, the photographer thought she was so beautiful he asked to keep the picture." May waved the note under his nose. He laughed and swatted her away, circling the table to pluck the file from his father's hands. His blue eyes, much the same colour as May's, roved over the picture quickly.

"That is the most ridiculous hair I've ever seen," he laughed, "Poor girl." His eyes swept the rest of it, and he gave a distinctly dismissive shrug. May sagged in defeat; she'd been waiting patiently for Asher to get excited about this.

"Speaks four languages but she's a seven?" Asher scowled, "That's an outright lie." Aspen explained about her mother. "Black?" he frowned. "Her mother was killed in combat, you say?"

"It's all there." Aspen waved.

"This wouldn't be the daughter of the war hero, June Black, now would it?"

"That was the name!" Aspen exclaimed, "I knew I'd heard it from somewhere."

"What are you talking about?" Marlee demanded.

"June Black was shot three times on three separate occasions, survived each time, recovered, and went straight back to fighting." Asher was looking over the photo with renewed interest. "She was an expert in hand to hand combat, and reports said she often discarded her weapons and went at her enemies with her bare hands. She's a legend."

"I met her once," Aspen nodded, "I presented a medal to her because she'd gone into an enemy building alone, killed all inside, and rescued six of the soldiers in her squadron who'd been taken captive."

"It took a bomb and four bullets to kill her." Asher concluded.

"Lord," May breathed, "I guess her daughter has her spirit."

"I'll say, have you seen the wounds on her?" Asher questioned as he stared down at the photo.

"We've already ruled her out." America said, her voice a slight snap.

"What? Why?"

"Because she's covered in bruises, it doesn't exactly set a good example."

"The daughter of a war hero does, though." Maxon told her gently, the gears working behind his eyes.

"Well, why don't we go with her sister?" America gestured to the other file, "She's a daughter of a war hero, too."

Asher glanced over the sister's file and shook his head. "She looks boring."

"And what about that one looks entertaining?" America challenged, eyes narrowing.

"I haven't asked for anything during this Selection, and I don't even want to take part." Asher stared at her, frowning indignantly. "She looks interesting, and I'd like to meet the daughter of one of my heroes. If she's a problem, I'll send her right home."

"I don't know..."

"You get to pick 34 other women, mother." Asher rolled his eyes, "This one is my choice, all right?"

America pursed her lips and glanced at her husband, who gave her a small shrug of consent. She looked back towards her son and hoped beyond hope that he knew what he was doing.

"Fine."

* * *

Thanks for reading! xo


	3. Chapter Three - Shocks and Bruises

"How was school yesterday?"

Henry gave me a shrug that was a little too stiff for my liking. I turned towards him, wincing at the twinge it gave my bruised knee. I stared at him until he looked up at me, and then he glanced quickly away, shoving his glasses up his nose.

"Was it the kids?"

"No."

"Your tic is back."

He stopped his hand midway to his face, in the act of shoving up his glasses again. "No, my glasses are too big for my face."

"Henry-"

Clarabelle tugged on my threadbare shirt, and I glanced down at her. Her big eyes were round with seriousness. She signed quickly, before Henry could stop her, 'It was the teacher.'

"The _teacher?"_ I demanded of Henry, already angry.

"It was nothing. A disagreement. I got sent home."

"Sent _home?_ For what? What did you disagree about?"

Henry groaned and threw himself back against the couch, throwing his arm over his face so he didn't have to look at me. He was never good at keeping his mouth shut. Sometimes that was a good thing; he couldn't keep secrets for long, and if something was bothering him he'd eventually tell me. But it also meant he had trouble with authority, especially Elizabeth and his teachers at school. He didn't understand that adults didn't like to hear that they were wrong, especially from a scrawny twelve year old with scruffy hair and knobbly knees.

I turned to Clarabelle, hands on my hips. She quickly relayed the story in sign language.

Henry, dissatisfied that his teacher had omitted facts about the Crimson War, tried to politely disagree. Apparently, the teacher hadn't been very happy with Henry letting a bunch of children know that Illéa had been just as much at fault as Britannia. When the teacher had accused Henry of lying, Henry had accused him of being bad at his job.

"Skies above, _Henry-_ "

"Like you wouldn't have done exactly the same, Eris." He grumbled into his elbow.

I fumbled for words, sighed, and tried again, less explosively. "You only get three days of school a week, mon chéri. We had to apply for months and months to get you even those days. They don't want Sevens in their classes, Henry."

"Then why send me?" He demanded, sitting up suddenly and chucking a lumpy, beat up pillow to the ground. Clarabelle rushed to pick it up and dust it off. "I'm already smarter than everyone in that room, Eris. The teacher knows it as well! That's why he was so angry."

"He's obviously an idiot, and you're probably right. But you still need to go to school. If you pass middle school with good grades, you might get to go to high school. I don't want to see you down in those mines with me, Henry, and Nikes doesn't want to see you at the farms either."

"But you're both smart enough to go to high school!" He was getting frustrated now, and I could see the tears welling as his chin started trembling. "If neither of you were good enough to go, then how could I ever go?"

"There was no one trying to push us to go." I sat down heavily next to him, done being angry. He didn't need anger, he needed comfort. "You think Elizabeth was fighting for us to get an education? She wanted us to work as soon as possible. But we don't want that for you," Clarabelle nudged her way onto my lap, resting her head against my collarbone. "We don't want it for any of you."

Henry scowled at the ground, never willing to admit he was in the wrong. And he wasn't, not really. But sometimes we have to put aside our beliefs to achieve a bigger goal. Finally, he sighed, nodded, and leaned his head against my shoulder.

"I won't argue with him anymore." He conceded. "I'll just smile and nod."

"Exactly," I nudged him in the side, "And maybe one day, when you've been to college and all that other stuff, you can come back here and be his boss."

"That sounds cool." Henry grinned. Clarabelle too. She could still read lips, which is why she was able to go to school along with Henry and Thomas, but she could only communicate with sign language.

"Eris!" Patch's voice drifted in from the kitchen, along with the clatter of the back door opening.

"In here!" I called back, and his heavy footsteps got into the room before he did. He grinned wide at the sight of us, and suddenly Clarabelle was very interested in hiding her flushed face in my hair.

"Hey guys, what's going on?"

"Just a little meeting," I rolled my eyes, Henry elbowed me. He didn't like being shown up in front of Patch. "Henry got kicked out of school yesterday."

"Really?! No way!" Patch laughed and scrubbed a big hand through Henry's ashy brown hair. "That's so cool."

I glared at him viciously, but he missed it, too busy asking for the details excitedly. Henry was suddenly much more proud of being kicked out for the day. Huffing, I stood up. Clarabelle coming with me as I limped out of the living room and into the kitchen.

"Nikes!" I yelled into the corridor, "You nearly ready? We'll be late!"

"It doesn't start for another hour!" She yelled back.

"Half an hour, vlákas!"

"Stop calling me an idiot!"

"Will you two shut your damn mouths!" Elizabeth hollered from her study. Clarabelle looked a little lost, being unable to hear the conversation, but I quickly filled her in.

'Will you braid my hair when you get home?' She signed to me, and I nodded, smiling.

'We won't be long.' I signed back.

"How's that knee?" Patch emerged from the living room. Henry darted upstairs with a quick farewell. At Patch's advance, Clarabelle hurried out from under my arm and out of the room too, swift as her bare feet could carry her. "She used to like me a lot more." He frowned after my little sister.

"She fancies you, you moron." I grinned, and his head whipped round, eyes widening comically.

"Really?" Impossibly, a pink blush crept into his face, just at the edges of his sharp cheekbones.

"Huxley too." I added, just to see the blush spread.

It did, turning the russet tones of his skin from reddish brown to full blown rose pink. He fumbled for a moment. "That's why they're so skittish?"

"Yeah." I shrugged, hopping up onto a stool at the kitchen island.

"So... All the women in this house have a crush on me? Except you?"

"Well, Nikes doesn't like boys."

"I know that."

"And Elizabeth is probably a little too old for you."

"I could still win her over, I'd bet."

I made gagging sounds, pretending to puke into my cupped hands.

Laughing, he took the stool next to me and swiveled until he could face me, and hooked a hand under my calf to pull my leg up and inspect my knee. When I winced, he did it with a bit more care.

"It's aching?" I nodded. "Does it twinge when you put pressure on your leg?"

"No, just throbs."

"Should be okay in a few days then, if you rest it."

"When do I ever get to rest?" I quirked an eyebrow, and he chuckled, shrugging.

He stood then, navigating the kitchen to find a scrap of cloth and soak it in cold water. When he placed it over my joint, I had to fight back a groan. The chill seeping into my flesh chased some of the fiery ache from my muscles.

"Better?" He asked. I nodded. "Good."

We sat like that for a moment. My foot in his lap and his hand bracing my ankle, his other hand pressing the cloth tight to my skin. He was looking at me, so I looked at the floor.

"Maybe you should take time away from the Pits for a while." He suggested suddenly. "Let yourself heal."

"What?" My eyes flashed up to his, and he winced. "Why?"

"Not forever. Just a week, maybe two. Just let your body-"

"I've got a family to support."

"And if you get injured permanently? The mines won't keep you on as a worker. What's the point in losing a steady job for a couple hundred extra at the Pits?"

"That feeds the kids, Patch!"

"And who'll feed them when you're too injured to-"

"Almost ready!" Nike announced as she flounced into the room. Patch and I glared at each other as she bounced around the kitchen, searching loudly for her shoes. "Whose ready to see their future Queen for the first time?"

Honestly, I'd forgotten. With Henry's troubles and Patch's outburst, the broadcast had completely slipped my mind. A week had passed since we'd sent off our applications, and now we had to head off to the square, ready to watch the official start of the Selection on the big screen.

Nike finally found her shoes, and I stood up to wait by the back door.

"Ris!" Thomas exclaimed, hurtling in from the back garden and almost knocking me off my feet.

"Where'd you come from?" I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

"No where." He said quickly. Though the rich gold of his skin was smudged with dirt, and his dark hair was stuck every which way. His clothes were wrinkled.

"We were in the woods!" Rocket announced, thumping into Thomas's back. Thomas turned to glare at her.

"The woods, huh?"

"We were hunting deer." She announced.

"I told them not to," Hunter immediately said as he too arrived home. He was distinctly less of a mess than the other two.

"For Illéa's sake, you guys!" I huffed. "You better get upstairs before Elizabeth sees you. Try and whack some of the mud off your clothes, too."

"But we almost caught one, Ris!" Rocket declared, stomping her foot.

"Yeah, no shit. Looks like you were wrestling it too!"

"Elizabeth said you're not allowed to swear." Thomas pointed out.

"Oh yeah, you gonna tell her?" I raised my eyebrows. He glanced down at the state of his clothes, the state of the twins clothes, and back up at me.

"I'll just go shower." He edged around me and hurried out of the room, the twins on his tail.

"That's what I thought." I scowled after them, "Are we ready?"

* * *

"Skies above," Nike breathed, surveying the scene as we stood on the outskirts of the square. "I've never seen so many people here at once."

"Not true," Patch disagreed, "Remember that time Old Dennis made his own vodka? A whole vat of it? It was this busy then."

"At least we have our priorities straight." I said. Patch chuckled under me.

I'd been perfectly capable of walking, especially since the square was only about twenty minutes away, give or take, but once the two of them had noticed how slow I was going and the severity of my limp, Patch had offered to carry me, and Nike had threatened to take us straight home.

It wasn't like I hindered him; he had muscle to spare. I'd be surprised if he even felt my weight.

The square was little more than an open space between a few tall buildings. All of them were government buildings; one of them the Service Office, another a prison, the other the headquarters that belonged to the Gruks, another a bank. No one really owned their own businesses, not in Fames; we were all employed by the government, whether it be to work in the mines, the farms, the pharmacy, which was as close as we got to a hospital. If you were really lucky, you got assigned to the bakery or the school.

The Gruks didn't come from Fames though; It was too tricky employing local people. So they came from other provinces.

What made it the official gathering place of all social events was the large screen at one end, elevated above the ground on hulking iron legs. Every Saturday it played the Weekly Report, but nobody gathered for that any more. Only for Christmas and for New Year did we gather to watch the special broadcasts, mostly because those events had singing in them, and we weren't allowed music in public anymore.

It was illegal. Like almost everything else.

I guess this counted as a special event; the announcing of the Selection girls. Despite the small amount of applicants that had turned up at the Service Office, almost everyone in Fames had turned up to watch the Choosing Ceremony.

They didn't agree with the Selection, but they didn't exactly disagree with a bit of entertainment.

That's exactly what it was; they'd all gathered to sneer at the women who would be sent off to the palace to be the Prince's playthings. In all honesty, that was the only reason the three of us were here too.

Patch waded into the crowd, and Nike stuck close to his back to avoid being trampled. My little sister was taller than me by four inches, but the added height would do nothing to save her from the heaving crowd.

We settled in a small pocket of space and I slid down from my perch, but still kept close to Patch. He acted as a sort of breakwater, as long as Nike and I stood in his shadow, people didn't wander too near.

"Why don't you go to Valerie?" Nike said as I winced and hopped to avoid putting too much pressure on my knee. "She said you could go to her-"

"If I've got a favour from a Medicine Woman, I'm saving it for something serious." I told her, she shook her head at me and looked back towards the screen. Waiting patiently.

The Gruks were out in their droves. The crowd was so densely packed that scuffles occasionally broke out, and the Gruks swooped in immediately, lashing out with their lightning rods and hauling off the brawlers to throw into the prison, which was literally on the outskirts of the crowd.

Convenient.

The black screen flickered to life, the picture a little blurry as the flag of Illéa appeared, drifting proudly into place. The national anthem blasted through rusty speakers, distorting the music a little.

As soon as the music started up, so did the crowd.

The song we hollered was one of disgrace. It was adopted during the riots which had taken place right after the end of the Crimson War, eight years ago. They carried on for two whole years, riots and strikes and looting and general unrest. During that time, the song was created to counteract the National Anthem, to override the lies about a prosperous and unified nation and show the truth of the poverty and injustice.

The Gruks waded into the crowd and arrested the loudest of the singers, but they couldn't arrest us all. Patch did receive a sharp slap to the face as a young, yelling woman was carried passed, but it barely bothered him, and he sung louder still after that.

Finally the Anthem was over and we quieted down for the drama. Some of the presenters did their usual updates; crime rates, the economy, how the peace talks were going overseas. We were restless, waiting impatiently for something we cared about to appear.

Then a woman came onto the screen, straight-backed and smiling kindly, wearing a backless gold dress that transitioned into a fiery red at the bottom; Illéa's colours. Her hair was inky black, and it was clear she was of Chinese decent.

"Hello Illéa! I'm Mei Baxton and I'll be your official host for all things Selection!" she was beaming wide, clearly a perky and warm person at heart. There was applause in the background; obviously a live studio audience. "Our royals are gathered and ready to get this show under way!"

It cut to another part of the stage, and there they were. King Maxon and Queen America, sat on their thrones, the King's taller than the Queen's, with their ornate crowns atop their brows. The King wore a scarlet suit, the Queen a golden dress that went well with her copper hair.

Beside the Queen was an empty chair that signified the second son, Maverick, who had been studying abroad for a few years, or travelling, or something, I couldn't remember. Beside the King sat Prince Asher, and beside him sat Princess Amber.

Her hair, a light strawberry blonde that glinted under the harsh studio lights, was braided back and woven between the spokes of her tiara. She was only ten years old, a pudgy little thing with rosy cheeks and a winning smile; when she did manage to smile, anyway.

Prince Asher sat straight backed in his chair, hands on the arms of his throne, the small silver crown on his head complimenting the pale blonde of his hair. His eyes, an icy blue that did little to bring colour to his pale face, were almost dull. They certainly weren't very interested as Mei introduced him, the only reaction he gave to being addressed was a small incline of his head.

"Apólytos malákas." I used that Greek term often enough for Patch to know the meaning, and he laughed quietly. Nike was paying rapt attention to the screen.

"He doesn't even look bothered," Patch snorted. "35 women heading to his home to woo him and he's not even excited."

"That's because he's realised that he's now going to have to behave in front of 35 women." I snorted.

"I bet he sleeps with every single one of them." Patch grinned broadly, my eyes caught the small chip in his front right tooth.

"You sound jealous."

"Jealous?" He snorted, "It's going to be a damn madhouse! All those snotty rich girls fighting to be the richest woman in the country? That's all they want. The title, the fame. I almost feel sorry for him. He wont every find proper love."

"Not with that smile, anyway." The camera cut to Prince Asher's face, completely devoid of all emotion. Patch laughed.

"Without further ado!" Mei exclaimed excitedly, and approached a table full of silver platters with one single envelope perched on each one. On the front of each envelope was the province the girl belonged to. "Now, these women had been picked at random earlier this evening, and it was Prince Asher himself who plucked each and every name out of baskets." Prince Asher gave a small quirk of his lips that might have been a smile. "He hasn't yet seen the names, but because the task takes quite a long time to accomplish, we did it beforehand so that you folks at home could know which girl you're cheering for immediately."

"Do you smell bullshit?" Nike shook her head with a huff.

Mei Baxton started to call out names, starting with Angeles and working her way across the country. It wasn't very interesting at all; the province was called, the name of the girl, the caste she belonged to, and then a picture flashed on screen, and alongside the picture was the reaction of Prince Asher to each and every one, but his expression barely varied at all.

A shout rose up from the left, and I looked over as a scuffle broke out between two men. They shoved at each other, one careening into a woman, who fell into a man, who shoved right into me.

I yelped, sprawling to the floor as my knee gave out beneath me. The man and woman both fell on different parts of me, and the breath left my lungs as the woman fell on said injured leg.

"And now for Dakota!" Mei said chirpily, and irritation washed through me at missing my province's girl.

The man – whose shoulders were laying atop my stomach – gave a shout as the woman rolled atop his ankles, and drowned out the name that Mei announced.

But I did catch the number, a Seven? A _Seven?!_ That had never happened! It must have been a pity choice.

I started to shove the man off my body, yanking my legs out from under the woman, cursing all the while at them both.

Above me, Nike let out a yell of pure panic.

"Nike?!" I shouted, horrified. Were the Gruks moving in? Were they coming at us with their lightning rods, or guns this time?

Patch looked down at me, eyes full of panic and terror, and reached down to yank me to my feet. His hands were too tight around my arms, and I hissed in pain as his fingers pinched.

But he didn't let up, didn't let go, and now Nike was staring in horror too, and Patch was yanking my head up to point my chin towards the screen.

There, up above me, displayed brightly on the screen, was a picture of me.

* * *

Thanks for reading! xo


	4. Chapter Four - Betrayal and Panic

"Elizabeth!" Nike yelled at the top of her lungs, shoving into the back door with too much force. She was meters ahead of us, and she disappeared into the square of darkness before we'd even really stepped into the garden.

I was a dead weight on Patch's back. Not that he was faring much better. He'd hoisted me onto his back without much ceremony, eyes fixed on the floor as he hooked his hands under my thighs and followed Nike in a numb sort of silence.

My best friend had never been so quiet. He was always talking, or coughing, or singing, or doing something that caused noise. Half our conversations consisted of me telling him to shut up. He even muttered in his sleep. Now that his noise was gone, I sorely missed it.

He climbed the steps up into the house, following the clatter of panic that Nike was making inside.

When times got tough, Patch got quiet and Nike got loud. Polar opposites.

Now that we were inside, I could see that Nike was currently in a standoff with Elizabeth. They were talking. Elizabeth stood at the island, sipping calmly out of a teacup, her large body shaking slightly. Nike stood opposite, her hands balled and faced flushed scarlet.

I slid off Patch's back, mute, lost in deepest shock. Without his solid body to support me, I folded into a heap on the floor, hunched over my aching leg, knees drawn tight to my body. Surely, this was a nightmare. Surely, I'd wake in a second looking forward to the day I'd get to go to the Choosing Ceremony and meet my future Queen for the first time.

But the longer that time stretched on, the more the horrifying realisation cemented itself in my mind. This was real - I could tell from the throbbing in my knee and the silence of Patch, sat in a chair at the table. I could tell too because the children were huddled in the doorway, pressed close together like they were warding off a chill. Thomas was holding Fern in his arms, letting her chew on his finger, but even she seemed to realise this was a situation for observing and not for participating.

"She's not going!" Nike hollered so loud that it penetrated the thick haze of panic that had enveloped me like a bundle of cotton wool.

Elizabeth replied, but in my daze, I missed it.

The palace was such an awful place. A place I wouldn't fit into. A place I would be scorned and hated and looked down upon. A Seven? In the palace? What had they been thinking, choosing me? It had to be a mistake, simply had to be.

The palace was not the calm family setting it had been when King Maxon and Queen America had first taken the throne. The Crimson War had shaken them, and then the riots had almost destroyed them. Politics had become unstable. The palace had become a dangerous place, where anyone who upset the precarious balance of peace was removed - publicly or secretly, but almost always violently.

"Ris is leaving?" The wobbling voice of Rocket yanked me back into reality. Even though I tried to go to her, tried to stand, tried to force myself across the room and comfort them all, I couldn't. Couldn't do it even when I looked into her big blue eyes and saw the fear there.

How could I leave them? There was so much that needed to be looked after. Who would read them bedtime stories? Who would trek into the woods to find Rocket and Hunter when the sun went down? Who would steal Henry new books when he'd reread all the ones he owned? Who would teach Thomas his spellings in the evenings? Or braid Huxley and Clarabelle's hair after baths?

I couldn't leave.

But how to stay? Now that the palace had summoned me, I couldn't say no. Couldn't refuse. They'd drag me kicking and screaming if they had to.

So, an excuse.

"You are not part of this family, young man!" Elizabeth barked at Patch. I had no idea what he'd said that had caused this outburst.

In the end, I had four ideas.

Illness - I couldn't go, I was sick. But as if they'd have doctors that couldn't verify that illness and call bullshit on my claims.

In love - But this was too flimsy an excuse. The Prince of Illea was waiting for me, as if I wouldn't be expected to toss aside a teenage fling in favour of a chance with a Prince.

Pregnant - But then again, as if they didn't have doctors capable of proving this lie. Even if I could get pregnant in the time it took the officials to get here and prepare me for the palace, if it was discovered I was pregnant, I'd be put in jail for having sex out of wedlock.

Engaged - The only idea my mind stuck on. Not illegal. You didn't have to apply to get engaged, you just had to apply to get married. There was no way they could prove I was lying. I'd need a ring, and I'd need a man. Patch would do, he wouldn't mind lying for me. Anne, a woman I worked with in the mines, had a ring. A very thin band of silver that I'm sure she'd let me borrow for a week or two. The officials would arrive, see the ring on my finger and Patch on my arm, and I'd announce our engagement.

I'd tell them that I applied for the Selection for the sake of the money that it had offered, used that money to buy the ring and make the engagement official. Patch would verify. Nike would verify. We'd lie for a few weeks, let the Selection get underway, and then we'd break up.

Easy. Well, in theory, it seemed easy. Kind of.

"I don't have to go." I said. The statement was quiet, but important enough that all other commotion stopped immediately.

"You bloody well do-!" Elizabeth bellowed.

"No," I grinned, looking up from the square inch of wooden floor I'd been gaping at this whole time. "No, I've got a plan."

As I explained, everyone in the room seemed to expand. Patch had been hunched in on himself, but he sat up straight as I went on, chest heaving with hope, shoulders stretching with reassurance. The kids seemed to come alive, disentangling themselves from one another, from the protective huddle they'd been folded in, becoming again singular people, different from each other.

But Elizabeth seemed to expand in a different way. Different in the sense that she seemed to balloon with anger, cheeks puffing like there was venom building behind her teeth.

"You see?" I smiled, making a conscious effort to ignore Elizabeth's anger. "It's fine, I'm not going anywhere."

The kids dared to wipe the tears from under their eyes. Nike took a steadying breath, dared to smile at me shakily.

"You will not." Elizabeth was staring at me like she was considering charging.

"It's a good plan," I assured her, "We won't get caught."

"I know. Which is while you'll cast the idea out of that damn stupid head of yours. You're going to that palace, Eris Black, whether you like it or not."

"Why do you care if the palace summoned me? It's not like you want me to have a better life."

"I couldn't give a shit about your life," She snarled, cheeks wobbling dangerously. "What I care about is the cheques they'll be sending home in place of you."

Everyone in the room knew that this would be the case. Stars, even little Huxley probably had some idea of how deeply rooted Elizabeth's greed ran, but nobody was prepared for the pure malice in her voice.

"How can you be so cruel?" Nike demanded.

"Cruel!" Elizabeth scoffed, "You'll be sent off to sit in pretty dresses, in pretty rooms, stuffing your face with pretty food, and we'll get enough money to last a good few months with even one of those cheques."

"But it's dangerous!" Patch exclaimed, "People die mysteriously in that place all the time! What about the attacks that happen all the time? What about all those dirty rumours about the Prince?"

"Eris can handle herself."

I carried on talking as if Elizabeth hadn't. "I'll ask Anne for the ring tomorrow, or we could even walk across Fames now Patch. The officials will be here in the morning, I don't doubt, so we'll be ready for when-"

Elizabeth hurled her teacup at the wall. The resulting shatter was a significant anticlimax, considering the force with which she'd lobbed it. But there was only so much noise a little teacup could make, and I'm sure it wasn't as attention grabbing as Elizabeth wanted it to be.

"-So we'll only have to lie for a few weeks, we'll wait until the Selection is in full swing so they can't call me back, and then we'll announce we've broken-"

Elizabeth hurled a plate this time, and that shatter was quite impressive, enough to startle Fern into a fearful squall.

"I forbid it." She hissed at me, every single one of her teeth bared.

"Why?" I frowned.

"Because we need the money more than we need you."

The words hit me like a slap to the face. Rocket stepped forward, fists balled and ready to defend me, but Hunter grabbed her back.

"How _dare_ you!" Nike hissed.

"It's true, you know it is." Elizabeth jerked her hanging chin upwards, self-righteous. "Think of what this could do for our family, for this house! We could eat properly, the kids could go to school. Eris will live a life of luxury, and we'll live one too."

"You would send her into that-... That, poison pit," Patch snarled, "To satisfy your own greed?"

"You are not a part of this family!"

"Neither are you!" Patch yelled right back. Elizabeth recoiled, just a little, but squared her shoulders.

"I don't care, I don't care if I'm the outsider," she growled, "I don't care if I'm the bad guy right now. But I _am_ in charge, I _am_ the keeper of this house, and I say Eris is going."

"And if I refuse?" I asked quietly. "If I flee? Go into hiding for a little while?"

"If you refuse to leave for the palace, then you _will_ leave this house."

The words, cold and harsh, were not just a threat. They were a promise. Nike's mouth dropped open, Patch's eyes flew wide. Huxley let out a little whimper of protest.

For ten years this had been my home, and its inhabitants my family. I thought that, after everything, after all I'd done and all I'd sacrificed for this house, Elizabeth would never dare throw me out.

"You can't stop me from seeing my family," I shrugged, "I'll stay with Patch, being in the house doesn't bother me."

"But the Gruks finding your journal would." She sneered, muddy brown eyes narrowed. "Didn't you write about snapping that man's spine? What about all those other confessions, hm?"

I almost stumbled.

She was threatening to hand me in. To send me to _prison._ It wouldn't just be for an extended stay, either. No, I would be executed for the things written in my journal.

But there was nasty ambition in her eyes, and her mouth was pinched in forceful anger, and I knew that nothing would sway her mind, that she was absolutely serious.

There was a deafening silence in the room. Nobody dared move.

"After everything I've done," I said too quietly, voice wobbling with rage. "You would do that to me?"

"I would. I photocopied the most important pages of your journal, I've been keeping them, just in case."

"After all I've sacrificed?"

"I never asked you to do any of the things you've done. You did it all of your own free will." She shrugged, and that shrug, that careless little movement, was what sky-rocketed me into a whole new realm of fury.

"And if I hadn't done those things, this house wouldn't even exist!" I bellowed at the top of my lungs, and the children scattered, rushing out of the kitchen and scampering into the darkness of the hallway beyond. Patch took a faltering step back.

"That is _enough_." Elizabeth's voice was faint.

"After everything!" I screamed and crossed to the island to pick up a bowl. I flung it at the wall, where it shattered into a million pieces. "After I provided for this family and fought for this family and hurt myself and everyone else for this family!"

Another cup at the wall. A glass followed it swiftly after.

" _Enough_ , Eris." She trembled.

"After all that," I yelled as I stormed to the table and kicked the chairs over, scattering them all over the kitchen. "I must _still_ give up more! Leave everything behind, give my body to a Prince and my mind to a toxic house!"

I hefted a chair by its legs and slammed it down onto the floor, smashing it down again and again until my hands were a bleeding mess and the chair nothing but a pile of splinters.

Whirling on Elizabeth, I marched right up to her to snarl in her face, "I'll go. Don't you worry, I'll take part in this fucking competition, but I won't be there for long, and when I get back you had better have a very good pissing apology on your lips."

When I shoved the back door open and swooped into the garden, quivering with rage, only Patch followed. He hurried after me as I stalked out into the street and down the broken, unused road.

"Are you going to the Pits?" he murmured as he caught up to me.

"We're going to your house." I snapped.

"Okay."

It was only a couple of streets over, and I got there in record time. His mother and father still lived here, and his older sister, but the house was empty as I thundered in through the front door and up the stairs, booting open his bedroom door.

He shut it quietly after me, leaning against it as I prowled up and down his bare room like a caged animal.

"Where is everyone?" my voice was a hiss.

"Andrea is staying at her girlfriend's," he replied calmly, "Dad's working the night shift, and mom is over at her friend's house."

"We'll be alone for the night?"

"For the next couple of hours," he nodded, and took a tentative step towards me, "Look, Ris, we should talk about this. Just... Just tell me what you're feeling right now, okay?"

"I don't want to talk."

"What do you want to do then?" he glanced around, "There's a tree in the back garden that you can hit if you want to let off steam. Also, there's bandages on my dresser for your hands."

I didn't reply, just stalked up and down, occasionally muttering under my breath. Patch sighed and crossed the room to sit on his bed, watching me with caution. I did retrieve the bandages though, pulling them taut around my palms with jerky movements.

The _nerve_ of Elizabeth.

How could she do it to me? Not just threaten to kick me out, she said that to me almost daily. But threaten to hand me over to the _Gruks_ , it was the deepest betrayal. The absolute most horrific thing she'd ever said, ever done.

I'd never looked to her for a mother; I remembered my own too well. But still, I'd trusted Elizabeth, had loved her in my own way. I thought that had been mutual, but apparently not.

She'd always been a greedy woman, eyes too big for her belly, stuffing extra helpings while the children went hungry. Lording over the house like she was doing us a favour by taking us in, as if she didn't get the better end of the deal.

Never bothered to look after the children. Didn't feed them, clothe them, teach them or nurture them. Nike and I did all the cooking, cleaning and working. She sat at home all day, yelling at the kids when they got too loud, but that was as far as her monitoring went. She even got a small allowance for the trouble of keeping us orphans in her care, but she didn't bother to spend much of it on rent or heating or electricity.

Nike and I had basically took on the entire weight of that orphanage, and all the hardships that came with it, and for her to threaten me and order me away, _after all I'd done_ , I couldn't even _think_ of anything more cruel.

I didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to sit and watch next Saturday loom towards me. I wanted to forget all about the Selection and the Prince and leaving behind my family.

I turned to Patch, stopped walking. He stared at me, raising his dark eyebrows in question.

What I really wanted was some control back. The palace would own me, body and soul, as soon as I got there. Elizabeth now owned me, the same as she owned those copied confessions from my journal.

But the Royals couldn't do anything about right now, and neither could Elizabeth.

So I marched over to Patch, stooped down so my face was on level with his, and pressed our lips together.

I felt him pull back a fraction, felt him hesitate, but I kissed him harder, gripping the back of his head to keep him to me. My mouth insistent against his, full of purpose and desperation.

His hands went to my waist, and for a moment I thought he'd push me away, but it was to pull me close instead. He yanked me right off my feet, settled me in his lap, his arms around my waist and my knees on either side of his hips.

This, _this_ was what I needed. This was a decision that was mine alone, my choice, my mistake perhaps, but mine all the same.

Patch let out a breath against my lips and jerked back, pupils wide and his chest quick. He stared at me, bronze skin flushed scarlet.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, "We can't, Eris. We said we wouldn't-"

"I know what we said," I cupped his cheeks, smoothed my thumb over his lips, pleaded with my eyes. " _Please_ , Patch. I can't think, I can't focus on going, on that awful fucking place." My voice broke, and his arms went tighter around my hips, and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

He stared at me, with those big dark eyes, always willing to follow in my footsteps. Perched in his lap, I was for once the same height as him, and used this to my advantage as I lowered my face to his throat and kissed at the warm, tender skin.

A low groan rumbled deep in his chest, and his fingers bunched in my shirt.

"Patch," I whispered in his ear, grinding roughly against him. "Please."

With a growl, he stood up from the bed, his hands under my thighs to stop me from falling. He circled around the bed, kicking off his shoes as he went, and lowered me to the mattress.

Drawing back long enough to rip his shirt over his head, he bent again to grip the hem of mine. I helped him wrestle it off, and he settled atop me as his mouth pressed against the exposed skin of my chest, breath hot on the swells of my breasts.

It took a moment of maneuvering to kick off my shoes, and a second of wiggling to get my hands between our stomachs to fumble at the buttons of my trousers.

Just as they popped open, his hands stopped me. I glanced up at him, poised above me and panting lightly, eyes a little wild.

"You're sure?" he asked, smiling faintly as I tried to tug my hands from his grasp.

"Yes," I breathed, pulling him down for a brief kiss. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Just wanted to be positive." Shrugging his wide, glorious shoulders, he rolled quickly to his knees, scooting back so he could yank my trousers down my legs and off my feet.

We shared a grin as he tossed them to the floor.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Xo**


	5. Chapter Five - Gifts and Favours

The week that followed was one of the worst in my life.

Officials whizzed in and out of the orphanage, interviewing me and my family, explaining the rules to me, setting travel plans, assessing me. Doctors looked me over, as did designers.

All of them came in with wrinkled noses and sneering mouths. The officials hated me, the doctors seemed concerned for my health, the designers scoffed outright.

I endured it all with a pissy attitude and a glare for whoever was in front of me. The only reason I didn't throw a punch was because Elizabeth loomed over my shoulder throughout it all.

The officials revealed that I didn't have to go back to work in the coal mines, but I returned anyway on the Tuesday to say goodbye to all the workers. The friends I'd made there over the years were beside themselves with amusement, and told me to enjoy myself as best I could with all those snotty bastards around.

The Pits had never seen so much of me. So much so that Tony (a hardened woman with a wicked face tattoo, the owner of the Pits) wouldn't let me fight more than three times a night. She gave me a glare on the Tuesday and pointed at my bruised eye, growling out; 'You finally got it good, girly, don't you ruin it.'

It didn't stop me going back on Wednesday, but she would only let me fight twice, and both with opponents that were seriously beneath me.

Elizabeth hit the roof when I trudged into the kitchen that evening, and banned me from going for the rest of the week.

But I ventured out anyway on Thursday, staying away from the Pits but wandering around Fames. Sticking to the abandoned streets was just asking for trouble, really.

The Crimson War lasted a full decade, and though there hadn't been any actual fighting in Dakota, the province had been bombed, like every other province in Illéa. After the war, there just wasn't enough money to rebuild everything. The poorest cities - such as our own - had been simply abandoned. Then the Riots happened, and Fames became even more rundown.

Half the city was abandoned, houses either empty or piles of rubble. No need for streetlamps either. It was a dangerous place; bodies found every other week, muggins and assaults happening often. You only ventured into the dark areas of Fames if you were looking for a fight, desperate, or up to no good.

Frankly, I was all three of those things.

I dared every flickering shadow, but none wanted to play, it seemed.

Two days and I would be off to the palace. Two days and I would belong to those I had hated since the day my mother had been taken from me.

But perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps I would be able to eat more, and read books, and there wouldn't be any working. Maybe it could be like a holiday. I would return as soon as the Prince figured out that there was no way I could be a Princess, and hell, he could figure that out by Sunday.

A _crack_ from behind made me turn. Stood in the middle of the gloomy street, it was difficult to see into all the hiding places, especially since the houses were dark and you couldn't see into the black of the broken windows.

Shrugging, I turned again and started walking, my mind turning again to the Selection and wondering if the other girls would be nice.

A shuffle of feet, the rustle of clothing, and I was whirling around.

Empty. There was an empty street facing me, not even a whisper of a person.

I turned, frowning, wondering if the nerves had addled my brain, and started walking again, peering over my shoulder for pursuers.

Three steps, it took only three steps to walk right into a human chest.

The impact was little more than a nudge, but hands lashed out, caught me in the stomach and shoved me backwards, and I went down hard.

A laugh erupted above me, and before I could even open my mouth to shout there were hands bunching in the collars of my shirt, yanking me to my feet and dragging me in, towards a hard warm body that I recognised without looking up into its owners face.

I stomped hard, catching the tips of his toes. He hissed, and in the moment it took him to do that I'd grabbed his wrists, twisted them harshly from my body, yanked him down to my height and slammed my forehead into the bridge of his nose.

He stumbled back, and only then did I spot the four guys behind him. There were two more behind that wall of muscle, but it was too dark and they were too blocked off for me to see who they were.

"Jax, my love, we have to stop meeting like this." I sneered even as he grunted into his palm, squishing his nostrils shut to stop the bleeding.

"You little bitch."

"Ouch," I pouted, and ducked as he swung a punch for me. It missed, and I snickered at him.

Jax would have been handsome, stunning even, if he wasn't such a bastard. He was of medium height and had dark blonde hair that fell lazily to his shoulders, a short blonde beard and lovely brown eyes. His face was sculpted, with full lips and sharp cheekbones.

He was buff too, a toned body that had helped him claw his way to the top of the criminal hierarchy. The majority of the crime in this city was organised by him, and his dogs gladly carried it out.

I'd drawn his attention at sixteen, he'd been only nineteen, but still he'd been very close to the top of the food chain. At first I'd liked him, and maybe if he'd stayed the cocky, snarky prick he'd been I might still have a soft spot for him. Instead he'd warped into a cruel, arrogant asshole, so there was only cool contempt whenever we ran into each other.

Well, cool contempt and usually a fist fight.

"Why you gotta be like this, huh Ris?" he cursed, and even as he stepped forward and landed a slap against my jaw, his eyes were soft as chocolate. "We could have been great together."

I ducked another swing and darted in close, bringing my fist into his stomach and landing a kick to his thigh that sent him to one knee.

"And you could have ended up six feet under, but hey, I'm an optimist."

"You don't miss me at all, babe?" he pouted and grabbed my hair in the same moment, sending me sprawling to the floor.

"Not even one little bit," I grinned up at him, and stomped hard on his shin.

He howled and stumbled back, but shoved the man that stepped forward to steady him, by the time he'd turned around I was already on my feet, already looking for a way out. If I ran, they would chase.

"I only wanted to give you your going away present," he frowned at me, like I was the one acting up.

"Is it your suicide note?" I smiled sweetly, and sent two lightning fast punches to his cheeks, one on each side.

Jax shook it off and lunged, and as I jerked back he grabbed the back of my head, wrenched it forward and brought his elbow up to meet my temple.

I saw stars, and almost dropped.

He caught me before I could, hoisting me up around the waist and pinning my back to his chest, his face in my hair and his nose at my neck, breathing me in as if he'd missed me.

The breath left me, and there was nothing I could do to stop myself sagging in his arms. There was a reason Jax held the position he did, and though I could take on several of his less skilled men, he was much better than me at fighting.

"I really do miss you, Ris." He murmured into my ear, even as I wrenched around in his grip, trying to break his hold on me. His arms became so constricting I felt my ribs creak in my chest.

Groaning, I gave up struggling. He would gladly crush my ribs, especially for all the damage I'd done to his men over the years.

"All right, all right." I panted, "You got me. You won."

"That is probably the most erotic thing you've ever said to me."

"No need to be big-headed about it."

"You know, this position really brings back memories." He pressed a hard, rough kiss to my throat and laughed along with the men in front of us. His hand ran down the length of my body, over my ass, and squeezed it hard.

I flung my head backwards, but he was expecting it and dodged with ease. Cursing viciously, I tried to wriggle free, tried to stamp on his feet, but he merely laughed.

"Stop, stop!" he chuckled, "Okay, that was rude. I do apologise."

"What do you want, Jax?" I demanded, falling still as he clenched his arms again.

"Like I said, I have a _present_ for you."

At those words, the two figures at the very back of the group started forward. I watched, apprehensive, as they started forward. The four men parted for them, and as they approached I realised that one was a woman, and she was being held up by Jax's man.

My heart seemed to stutter in my chest.

"See? Whoever said I wasn't merciful?" Jax whispered in my ear, and kissed softly at my cheek.

I starred in horror at Mania as she stumbled forward, haggard and grey-skinned, her ginger hair brittle and matted, skinnier than she'd been when I'd seen her last.

The man shoved her forward and she crumpled like a piece of paper without the support. She hit the floor with a sickening thud and didn't move. Her back heaved with the force of her quickened breath, but that was the only sign that my sister was a living breathing human being.

"What did you do to her?" I murmured, too horrified to be angry.

" _Me?_ " Jax sounded offended. "She did this to herself! I paid off her debts with all those nasty people," he dragged his hand down over the curve of my hip, his voice a simper. "Out of love for _you_ , Eris, I did that. But she just wouldn't leave the drugs behind. I even got her clean for a little while, was going to send her on home to you, but she went back to them with a vengeance."

"You absolute bastard!" I yelled, and trampled heavily on his insteps. When he cussed and tried to get his feet out from under me, I wrenched free of his hold and sent an elbow into his diaphragm that had him gasping.

I lunged for Mania and fell to my knees beside her, rolling her gently onto her back and scraping her dirty hair back from her face. She wasn't bruised anywhere obvious, so perhaps he had treated her with care.

"Dunno what you're so angry about," Jax sniffed from above me. He made no move to grab me again. "I brought her back, didn't I?"

"After keeping her for weeks!" I shouted at him, and bared my teeth in warning when he tried to come near.

"Now now," he held up his hands, "I'm trying to be decent here."

"Just..." I sighed, "Fuck off, before you really make me angry."

"Oh, but this is only the first part of your gift."

I frowned up at him, doing my best to elevate Mania's head off the cold concrete.

"Well, I returned your sister. But I also wanted you to know that I'll be keeping an eye on your family while you're away."

My insides turned cold with dread. "What?" I breathed.

"I know how much you love those kids, Ris." He smiled at me, "I thought it would put your mind at ease while you're away. To know that I'll be looking out for them. Especially that sister of yours," he grinned, eyes wicked. "I've tried two of the Black sisters, I'd like to complete the set, if I'm honest."

I was on my feet in a moment, lunging for him in a blind rage. But after all these years, Jax knew me a little better than I wanted him too. His men grabbed me, one to each arm and the other two circling round, watching me for any sudden movements as I quivered with fury.

"You wouldn't dare." I hissed at him. "There's going to be Gruks all over the house while I'm away."

It had been the one thing I'd asked of the palace officials when they'd come. That my family receive constant protection considering I wouldn't be around to provide it.

"As if those pigs know more than we do about this city." He scoffed. "You know I've had my eye on those kids for a while, they'd be significant investments. As would the house."

Horror turned my spine to ice, and suddenly I couldn't move. I knew all about the shady things Jax was involved in.

"You-... You touch them, and I swear-"

"You'll what? You'll be a long way from here, remember?" He grinned devilishly.

I swore at him so viciously that he flung his head back to laugh.

"I think that's our cue to leave boys," he chuckled. "Before our Princess here gets a little too angry." He marched forward and gripped my face in his hands, his big, scarred palms rough against my skin as he lowered his head and planted a hard kiss against my mouth. "Good luck, my love, I'm sure you'll do great in the Selection."

"I'll kill you," I promised him, "I'll kill you if you touch any of them, Jax."

Jax merely smiled, and then, lightning fast, drove his fist into my stomach.

He'd aimed perfectly, and I dropped to the floor with a gasp, winded and crippled by the well-placed blow.

It took me only moments to raise my head to glare around, but they were already disappearing into the shadows. After a minute, even the sounds of their laughter had died away.

I could almost feel the bruise blooming beneath my shirt, but it didn't take me long to crawl over to Mania and bend low over her.

There was little left of the big sister I remembered. I'd seen corpses before, and she resembled one too closely for comfort.

With a wince and a low groan, I stood. It was difficult bending down to scoop her up, but I did it. Thankfully, my body was toned and strong from working in the mines, and well used to injury from fighting at the Pits, so I carried my big sister home, wondering the whole way if she was worth the effort.

* * *

It was early morning, and I fought a yawn as I hurried along the shadows. My hood was pulled up over my head to disguise my orange hair, which had become much more of a hindrance in the week that I'd been a Selection girl. It had become much too noticeable, and I needed anonymity for this task.

The night before had been a wild flurry of getting Mania washed and into a bed at the orphanage, which is where she currently was, writhing in bed and calling for the drugs that were leaving her system.

This early morning trip was not for Mania though, it was for my other siblings.

The Soot Market was illegal, and anyone caught there would be arrested and executed swiftly, I didn't doubt. Which is why the location was an absolute secret, closely guarded unless you were desperate enough to ask around. It had taken me most of the night and the better part of the morning to track down the entrance.

So here I was, strolling through one of the busiest parts of Fames in the early morning rush to work. Halfway down the busy street lined with closely packed houses, I turned quickly down an alley and peered back out to make sure nobody had spotted me.

Once I was sure, I turned back down the alley and hurried to the end, where a large black dumpster stood, probably coming to about shoulder height, and tapped on its side six times in sets of three.

There was two taps back, which made me jump slightly, but I quickly tapped back three times.

The lid popped up, and a head of bushy black curls peaked between the gap before a set of big brown eyes peered out at me. They squinted in suspicion.

"I'm looking for Valerie." I told the set of eyes. They narrowed further.

"You looking for an abortion?" the voice was a masculine growl.

"Pretty sure that's none of your damn business." I snapped back before realising that was probably a bad idea.

But there came a throaty chuckle that echoed around the metal insides, and the lid opened all the way to rest against the back wall. A black man with a thick neck and muscled arms stood to his full height, the top of the dumpster coming to about his waist. He must have been stood on something inside.

He leaned down, opening up his arms like he expected me to step into them. I frowned at him, recoiling.

"You wanna see Valerie or not, lady?" he said gruffly. I nodded. "Well then, don't dawdle."

He grabbed me by the front of my hoodie and dragged me forward, hooking his hands under my armpits and lifting me quite easily into the air and over the edge of the dumpster. He set me down inside the dumpster, but I wasn't stood on the metal bottom, I was instead stood on a set of stone steps that led downwards into the ground.

I swore, and he chuckled again.

"Down you go." He gestured.

The walls of the dumpster became walls of stone. They descended for a good twenty meters below ground. Once I'd hit the bottom and stepped onto a flat, concrete floor, the man above shut the dumpster lid and joined me, pausing for a moment to allow me to take it all in.

It was almost a cavern. A big, rectangle room made entirely of rock, lit by dull lights set at the perimeter of the hall. It wasn't full, but it was bustling with activity. Wooden structures had been erected inside to act as stalls; clearly this was a permanent base for a lot of people. A few more doorways in the concrete walls seemed to lead back up, and I wondered if the people here lived in the houses in the streets above.

"This way, lady." The man told me, taking my elbow and steering me through the mess of activity.

People were selling all sorts. From horded fabrics to stolen fruit to warped metal. There even seemed to be a bakery. One stall that almost made me stop was a stand dedicated solely to banned books. People loitered around, speaking freely, laughing without fear of Gruks hanging over them. Normal people seemed to be buying the wares, not at all the hive of criminal activity this place had been built into by rumours.

Some stared as I passed, but only because I was the one that looked out of place, with my hood pulled low and my nervous glances.

He led me all the way to the back, where a large wooden hut stood. There was no signs to indicate what the people inside were selling, but the man marched right up and wrapped lightly on the side of it.

A face I recognised peered out of the gap where a door should have stood, but there wasn't one. Valerie spotted the man, smiling wide, and then her smile dropped suddenly when she saw me.

I wondered if she would turn me away immediately, her offer to me having expired as soon as my name had been called last Saturday. But she held out an arm after a brief moment of hesitation, waving me inside with a flurry of insistence's.

The hut inside was lit brightly, probably a good ten by ten feet. The back wall was lined with shelves, and on them sat reams of books and jars and equipment that I didn't even know the names to.

In one corner sat a bed, and in the centre of the room sat a table.

Valerie thanked my guide as he left, and turned to me. Her kind eyes had not changed, but they seemed a lot graver as they stared at me now. Her golden skin was taut with worry as she ushered me into a seat at the table.

"I hope it wouldn't be an abortion you're seeking, Lady Eris."

"Don't," I flinched, "Don't call me that." It's what the officials had been calling me all week, and I felt tacky and cheap whenever they uttered the title. "And no, it isn't."

She seemed to relax just a little bit, but still looked harassed. "Then what is it you seek, Eris Black?"

"Medicine Women are well connected within their communities, aren't they?" I hedged, "And they're also well protected. I can guarantee that the stalls beside and opposite this one are fake, and full of your body guards, and I know they're listening closely to this conversation."

"You have a good eye, and good ears." She smiled, amused but still cautious. "What's a girl with a mind like yours doing brawling in the Pits?"

"Just poor circumstances." I shrugged, giving her a smile. "Look, I'm going to be frank with you. Jax Healy has it in for me."

"Almost all of Fames is well aware of his obsession."

"That's right. Last night he attacked me and gave me back my older sister Mania, who he's been hiding for weeks while he let her have all the drugs she wanted."

"You want herbs to help along the process of getting her clean," she nodded seriously, and started to stand.

"No, no." I motioned for her to sit again. "After he gave her back, he warned me that while I was away, he would go after my family."

"How so?"

"For years he's been hinting at taking the kids from the orphanage. He uses children in some areas of his business. Running drugs, messages, looking out for Gruks, you know? Sometimes even... Prostitution."

"I know." She nodded gravely.

"Well, for years he's hinted at it, but I always thought it was just to torture me, you know? Just to put me on edge and make me paranoid. But I'm a decent fighter, and he knows I'm better than the majority of the people in his employment, and I think that's what's stopped his threats from getting serious all these years."

"And now you're leaving, and taking your protection with you." She concluded, her already wrinkly face seemed to have aged more drastically in the last couple of moments.

"Exactly. There's going to be Gruks watching over the orphanage, but with all the trouble I've given them over the years, I can't see why they'd put any proper effort into helping my family."

"Forgive me, Eris, but what exactly are you asking of me?"

"I'm asking for your protection." I told her, firm and bold. "Not so much that it would put you in danger. I'm just asking for you to keep an eye on them. I know that Medicine Women are well connected to each other, and I know you form a whole network throughout Dakota, even stretching into other provinces, and I'm asking you to spare a few of your guards to at least monitor the orphanage while I'm gone."

"Why don't you just stay?" she frowned, "You don't seem like the kind of girl who would be interested in a bratty Prince, why not think up an excuse?"

"I did. I was ready to lie to the palace officials. But Elizabeth – the keeper of the orphanage – threatened to hand me over to the Gruks if I didn't go."

"You're in quite the predicament, aren't you, little one?" she looked me over with a gaze that was heavy with intelligence.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you even remember me, Eris Black?" she was smiling now, her gaze kind once more.

"Pardon?"

"A year ago, you rescued a young, weak woman who was being sexually assaulted in an alley by a couple of Gruks. You fought for her and rescued her, and you picked the girl up in your arms and you carried her home. To me. You put her into her bed and you told me what had happened, and you walked out without a backward glance, without waiting for a reward or even a thank you.

I hadn't even asked your name, but it didn't take me long to find a woman with hair as bright as yours. I've monitored you ever since, and for a year I've kept tabs on you through Tony at the Pits, who promised to keep an eye on you and bring you to me had you ever gotten injured enough to need me. When I saw you in the line at the Service Office, I expected you to recognize me, or at the very least the granddaughter that you had saved stood beside me. But you didn't, and you were still defending those who couldn't defend themselves, and I couldn't help offering you my services if ever you needed them."

I was shocked. Even now, with her reminders, I couldn't place her face. The incident with the Gruks I did remember, and I remembered the girl being a blonde, but she'd curled up into a ball so tightly in my arms that I'd barely been able to see her face. Now that I thought hard, I did remember an old woman who'd opened the door to the house the girl had whimpered she lived in.

"So, considering I owe you a debt much larger than you ever realised, I will do what you ask of me, Eris." She smiled as I leaned forward suddenly to grip her hands in silent, fierce thanks. "I will have your home monitored, and I will watch closely for signs of trouble around your family members. I already keep careful watch of Jax Healy's activities, just in case I can ever offer aid to his victims. Additionally, I will attempt to get word to you in Angeles and keep you updated on the events here in Fames. Anything I think might be relevant to the protection of your family, and you will know."

"Thank you, Valerie." I breathed, feeling suddenly close to tears.

"Thank _you_ , Eris." She squeezed my hands, "There are very few brave people left in this country, and I feel obligated to protect those rare few."

We stared at each other, a long moment of silent appreciation passing between us. I hoped I'd be as strong as her when I got old, I would never be as kind, but I could hope to be as fierce and honourable.

"I have to get back," I said, standing. "Big day tomorrow."

She winced, "I'm sorry you were picked, you don't deserve to go to a place as awful as that."

"Eh, I'll call the Prince a few nasty names and hopefully be home by tomorrow evening." I smiled at her, and she laughed, a deep, wholesome sound.

"If anyone can achieve that, it'd be you."

She grinned, kissed me on each cheek and sent me on my way, telling me that one of her guards would walk me home.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Xo

Word pronunciation:

Mania - Mane - ee - uh.


	6. Chapter Six - Mermaids and Tears

"Can we have one more story?"

We were in the attic. The kids were starting to doze now, curled up in all different positions around the haphazard den we'd made years ago. Just a small collection of old armchairs, couches, and big pillows, dotted around in a loose circle so we could all sit here together.

Elizabeth never ventured up here; too messy. Old junk had collected like dust in the corners of the place, broken toys and paperwork, bags of clothes that would be passed on to other babies if any were ever dropped off on the doorstep, as they usually were.

Henry kept a his stash of stolen books under one of the floorboards. Thomas kept some toy trucks up here to roll around when he wanted peace and quiet.

Everyone was more than a little subdued. Tomorrow, the palace official would arrived in a car to take me away. I would be driven straight to the airport; no Goodbye Ceremony for me, as the other 34 women would have in their own provinces. Dakota was considered too unstable, and the risk of riots or attacks was too great to allow me to stand on a platform in the middle of Fames and say goodbye to my city.

The kids were fighting sleep, but none of them seemed content to go to bed. Rocket and Hunter were curled around each other on one couch. Henry, Clarabelle and Thomas sat together on another. Nike had Fern in her arms, bouncing her softly to placate her cries.

Huxley was folded in my lap, head under my chin, nose in my hair. She hadn't stopped weeping for days.

Patch sat against my knees on the floor. He hadn't been home for the last couple of nights, though he still had to go to work at the mines during the day.

"Just one more, Ris." Rocket begged, big blue eyes wide with the knowledge of my coming departure.

I hated to do this to them. Hated it with everything in my body. I'd never left this family for more than a day. Never been away from this house for more than one night. To leave them now, leave them when autumn was fast approaching and winter looming like a coming storm, my chest physically ached with dread, with guilt, with outright fear about where I was going and what I was getting myself into.

But what could be done? Elizabeth had threatened to hand me over, the officials had already come and made their visits, and I was ready to go.

I was to leave in the morning.

Looking around at them, at all of them staring at me like they might never see me again, I felt sick to my stomach.

With Jax's threat constantly tapping at the back of my brain, too...

It didn't matter. None of it did. Because Valerie had promised to watch over them while I was away. It didn't matter, because the Prince wouldn't want me. Would take one look at my stupid, bright orange hair and my pale, sickly skin and the tattoos scattered like windblown leaves over my legs, and he'd send me straight home.

And if he didn't? Well, I'd open my mouth. One insult from me should have his weak little spine quivering, and he'd realise what a nightmare I am, and I'd be home by Sunday morning.

That was the plan, anyway.

"Okay." I smiled at them, "Just one more, and then it's time for bed."

"One about the sea." Henry interjected, "You already told one about the desert. Tell one about the sea."

So I did. Signing along as I spoke the words out loud - for Clarabelle's behalf - I told them a story about the sea.

"In the olden days, when ships were wooden monstrosities, bigger than houses stacked on top of houses, women hadn't been allowed on those ships. They'd been an omen of bad luck, and had been forbidden to sail the seas. But sometimes women would sneak aboard. Maybe they were trying to escape something, maybe they needed a job, maybe they wanted a new life. So brave women would try their luck at pretending to be a man, and they'd sneak onto the ships, and they'd hide or they'd work, keeping to themselves so as not to raise suspicion.

"Some of them managed to stay hidden, convince their shipmates of their masculinity and stay concealed. These women reached foreign lands, with all the promise of a better life, and they were happy." Clarabelle started to smile.

"But some were caught." Her smile died, "Some... some had their identities revealed. They were dragged up onto the deck of the ships. They had their clothes ripped from their bodies, and their legs were bound with thick rope, and their sharp cries were silenced with gags.

"They were tossed overboard, into the raging sea, and down they sunk. They fought, struggling against their bonds on the way to the seabed, screaming around their gags. But as they touched the floor of the ocean, something happened, something started to change..."

Rocket and Hunter leaned forward at almost the same time.

"The sea stopped beating against their battered bodies. The ropes tying their legs no longer felt so tight, and started to grow smooth, molding to their skin and changing colour. The gags that had silenced their voices came loose, and the salt water that had burned their throats had softened their vocal cords, nurturing them, smoothing them. Suddenly, those women could sing in beautiful, enchanting tones. The women blinked, and realised they could see perfectly, even in the salt water. They looked down, and realised that the ropes had morphed into huge, shining tails, which were so powerful that one swish could send them sailing through the water.

"Those women had gone aboard the ships looking for freedom, and the sea had provided. The men had cursed them, but the sea had blessed them. Their human bodies had died, but in death, they'd been turned into something else, something greater. Those women glanced around the sea floor, spotting the creatures of the deep lurking in the shadows, and they smiled, and set off in chase of the men that had murdered them."

"Do they really exist, Eris?" Thomas asked, eyes wide.

"Mermaids?" Henry scoffed, shoving his glasses up his nose. "Of course not, it's just a story."

"They might." I warned him, "They're smart. They could be hiding anywhere."

Henry rolled his eyes, but didn't disagree, mostly because Rocket and Hunter were ecstatic with the idea of raging, terrifying women creatures dragging men into the sea.

"Time for bed," I announced.

The mood plummeted. It took a lot of convincing to get them all up and walking, and more prodding still to get them into their rooms and into bed.

"I'll check on Mania while you put Fern down." Nike handed the sleeping baby off to me.

I changed her nappy and fed her formula, then put her into the cot that sat between Nike's bed and my own.

"You really have to go?" Huxley whispered as I bent to kiss her forehead.

"Yes." I whispered back, "But I'll be home soon. So quick you won't even miss me."

Clarabelle looked over from her own bed, tears in her eyes. 'What if the Prince wants to keep you?' she signed.

'Then tough.' I signed back, and she smiled.

I switched off their light and said goodnight. I went through the same process with Rocket and Hunter, with Rocket threatening to kill the Prince with her own bare hands if he didn't let me come home quickly. I laughed and said goodnight to them, too.

"Statistically Eris, you should get sent home quite quickly." Henry informed me as I removed his glasses and set them on the low table between his and Thomas's bed.

"Why's that?" I asked, amused.

"Because you're a _Seven_. That's never happened before, and only King Maxon chose a girl from a lower caste. So, historically, it's quite unlikely you'll make it very far at all."

Thanking him for the information, I kissed him and Thomas and trudged off to my own room. Patch was sat on my bed, looking a little lost and forlorn.

"I don't want-"

I held up my hand, warding him off saying anything. I'd done enough comforting this evening, without also having to bear the emotional baggage of a grown man.

Nike came in, and Patch left to let us get ready for bed.

"If you need anything," I held out a piece of paper, on it was written an address. "Memorise that, then burn it."

"Who lives there?" She murmured, cautious of waking Fern.

"Valerie." I told her everything. About Jax, his threat, my trip to the Soot Market and Valerie's promise.

"You decided to tell me this the _night_ before you leave?!" She demanded, her black eyes - already bloodshot from exhaustion - were blown wide with anger.

"I wasn't going to tell you at all." She shook her head, furious. "I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily, especially since I might be home so quickly. But you need to know, just to prepare yourself. If you need anything, or you're worried, go to that address and tell her. She'll help you."

"Thanks for trusting me with my own safety." Rolling her eyes, she climbed into bed and threw the covers over herself.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away, all right? But I'm not even sure Jax's threat is serious, he could be doing it just to worry me, for all I know-"

"As if Jax Healey says anything without actually meaning it."

I nodded, "That's what I thought, which is why I've taken the extra precaution. But I just need you to know that you're safe with me gone, and I'm not just leaving without making sure I have a plan for you guys."

"You worry about everyone else too much," She grumbled, "And not about yourself enough."

I sighed and moved to let Patch back into the room. He'd slept on my floor every single night that week, harping some crap about wanting to be near me, dramatic as he was.

"Thank you, Ris." Nike sat up, making me pause before I'd opened the door. "I know how much you do for us, and I'm grateful. Thank you for ensuring our safety, even while you're not here."

"You're welcome, Nikey." I smiled, and so did she.

"Still irritated at you though," She slumped back into her pillows, and I rolled my eyes. Of course she was.

I let Patch in, and he tucked himself into the little makeshift bed on the floor beside my own. Though as soon as the light was off and I was under the covers, he tugged my blankets off and nudged me aside to sleep in with me. Grumbling, I made as much room as I could for him, but the bed just was not built for a man of his bulk.

He didn't seem to mind though, and simply curled up at my back, face in my hair and heavy arm around my waist. It was stifling, and I was uncomfortable for most of the night, but I couldn't exactly deny him.

* * *

"The official is here." Nike said. She said it as if she was announcing that Death had turned up on the doorstep asking for me.

"I'll be right there." I told her. Turning from my little sister, I looked down into the face of my older one. Her skin looked grey, her face shiny with a thin layer of sweat. Her cherry red hair was still matted, no matter how many times we'd brushed it.

Leaning down over her thin, sickly body, I kissed her forehead. "See you soon, Mania."

She couldn't even reply.

Outside the door, Nike was waiting with our old, battered suitcase. We'd arrived at the orphanage with it, all three of our belongings crammed inside. She handed it over.

"Everything you need." She told me, voice thick. "Your journal, and all your best clothes. Of course, those will still look like rags compared to everyone else's. Dad's old ring that he left us, for good luck. Huxley gave you some drawings and Henry gave you his favourite book, and Clarabelle her lucky hairband."

She held that last one out to me, and I smiled as I slipped it onto my wrist.

"It'll be all right." I told her as we hugged hard. "Everything will be fine. I'll be home tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." She scoffed.

We made our way downstairs, where everyone was stood in the hall, for once silent. It felt weird, without the noise of their bickering or laughing or the clatter of their toys.

"The palace official is just outside the door," Elizabeth told me, "Don't make her wait."

"I'll do as I please," I said. Elizabeth scowled, but didn't retort.

Hugs commenced. Every single one of them wanted to hold on for as long as possible. Huxley wept silently, clinging to my neck as I tried to put her down. Clarabelle's whole body shook with the force of her sobs. Rocket tried to kick me in the shin, furious for leaving. Hunter smothered me in kisses. Thomas tried to act brave, as did Henry, but they both held onto my waist tightly as we hugged.

"Please _try_ to steal some books." Henry urged as he let me go. I laughed and promised I would.

Patch picked me clean off the floor and gave me a hard kiss on the mouth, and warned me not to fall in love with any Princes. I shoved him off, scowling, and turned again to my sister.

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, leaning heavily on me for a minute.

"You memorised it, yes?" I whispered in her ear. She nodded against my shoulder, sniffled into my neck, and pulled back.

"Please don't cause too much trouble." Nike pleaded, laughing weakly.

"I can't make any promises." My voice broke as I kissed her cheek.

The official knocked harshly at the door, and Nike handed me my suitcase. "Hurry home."

"I promise I will." I told her.

Making my way down that corridor felt like I was walking on broken glass. Every single one of them seemed to have tied a steel cable around my heart that was tugging me backwards, yanking on that weak, pathetic organ which was currently thumping in undiluted terror.

I stopped in front of Elizabeth, glared right into her full, thick face and those small, cruel eyes. "While I'm gone, will you for once in your life, look after someone other than yourself?"

She wasn't inclined to answer, so I moved on from her and opened the door. The official turned to me, a strained smile on her face, which dropped as soon as she saw the outfit I had on.

" _Where_ is your assigned clothing?" She demanded as I stepped out into the weak sunlight, straining through the heavy clouds. Summer was fast disappearing.

"Seemed to have misplaced it." I smiled and shuffled around her, down onto the path that led through the front garden and out into the street, where a sleek, black car was waiting for me.

Spluttering with anger, the woman stumbled after me and started promising punishments, but I was already at the car and yanking open the back door, closely missing the woman's shin as I swung it wide. I scrambled into the interior, glad for the cool air on my hot face as the tears slid down my cheeks.

The official got into the car, already muttering warnings about me being behaved and _you won't be able to act like a Seven at the palace, little miss._ I didn't even listen to her, just stared straight out of the window, faced turned aside so she wouldn't see the weakness leaking out of my eyes and trailing down my skin.

The car roared to life beneath me, and I almost shrieked. I'd never even seen a working car before, let alone been in one, and the motion as it set off made me dizzy.

Though that was soon forgotten as the car turned the corner at the end of the street, and suddenly the whole road was flooded with people on either side, held back by barriers obviously erected the night before.

Almost everyone in Fames had turned up to wave me off. The men and women from the mines who I worked with every day. Tony, the manager from the Pits. The baker and his family. People from the farms, some of them Nike's friends. There was Valerie too, waving and smiling, stood next to the granddaughter she loved so much.

Of course, never one to miss an opportunity, there was Jax Healy, at the very end of the street to make sure he was the last familiar face I saw, surrounded by his cronies, stood smiling a villainous smile as he waved at me lazily from the pavement.

* * *

Even three hours later, I was still feeling a little dizzy from the sheer amount of tears I'd shed. In fact, I was actually embarrassed about the length of time I'd spent crying. It had been long enough that the official seemed to see me as less of a threatening nuisance and more a pathetic wimp that she'd decided to take pity on.

I was just disembarking from my first flight. No other girls had been flying from Dakota like I had; the airport was too shabby and the province at large didn't really give a shit, so I was being transferred to another airport first in a different province, meeting up with a few other girls there, and then being flown on to Angeles.

The official led me into a private room, specifically for the Selection girls to sit in while we waited. Honestly, that one room was probably more posh than all of the orphanage combined.

Grabbing a snack from the table provided, I sat in a seat and prepared to wait.

I didn't even have to wait five whole minutes for the next girl to arrive.

She introduced herself in a timid, quaking voice as Luna, a Three from Bankston. She was a large girl, heavier by far than me but only a couple of inches taller. She had long, blonde hair pulled back into a braid that hung heavy over one shoulder, and dark, chocolate eyes. The high-waisted black trousers we'd been required to wear complimented her round hips, and the white blouse showed off her heavy breasts.

She was the most adorable creature I'd ever seen, in all honesty.

I introduced myself too, but it seemed she already knew me. She'd read my file.

"We have files?" I blinked, surprised at this.

"Yes, but you have to make a specific request to look through them all. I'm guessing you didn't." She smiled and laughed nervously, "I'm just thorough. I thought it would be easier to make friends if you already knew who everyone was, don't you think?"

"I suppose." I shrugged, "I'm not actually sure about the whole 'making friends' thing. I'm not too good with people."

"Oh, I know." She giggled, "That's in your file too."

"It is?"

"Both the designers and the doctors added notes. All of them made a point of saying that you were uncooperative and argumentative."

"Sounds about right." I smiled at her.

"Is that also why you're not wearing our assigned clothes?" She waved a hand to my outfit.

I was wearing blue jeans and a button down plaid shirt that probably used to belong to Patch, judging by the way it hung off me. The outfit was made infinitely more hideous by my beat up old sneakers, and the fact I'd left my hair down, which meant it hung in frizzy orange curls all the way to my waist.

My first impressions were going spectacularly.

"That _is_ why." I told her in a conspirator tone, "The thing is, I don't really like rules."

"That's not in your file."

"It should be, it's a very big part of my personality."

She laughed, and after a moment, I joined in.

Lauren arrived soon after. A tall black girl, with skin so dark it was almost the colour of mahogany. Her hair was long and straight as an arrow, just a few shades darker than her skin. She had an elegance that immediately made me feel inferior. Her high, regal eyebrows matched perfectly with her square jaw, the long expanse of her neck and her dainty shoulders.

"I love what you're wearing." She told me as she shook my hand, and then moved to shake Luna's.

"You don't have to lie." I told her, "I know I look like trash."

"At least you're walking into the competition with some personality. You'll stand out from everyone, that's smart." Her smile seemed genuinely impressed with this tactic.

"Actually, I'm just trying to establish dominance. This will let the palace know I'm not taking any shit."

She threw her head back and laughed, a deep, attractive sound, showing off a set of perfect white teeth. "Stick it to the man."

We fell into easy conversation. About home, our families, how we felt about being here. Lauren was a Four from Columbia, her parents were real estate agents, and very wealthy. Luna, a Three, her parents were doctors, and also very wealthy, but not around as much as they could have been.

Both were excited to be here. Both had applied in hopes of being the future Queen. Why that job appealed to them, I wasn't so sure. For Luna, I think it might have been the opportunity to be in love. For Lauren, I think it was probably the opportunity to be something more.

I tried to imitate their excitement. Kept the explanations about my family short. Told them I'd applied for the same reasons they had. Neither one seemed totally convinced, and I think they could tell that there was a lot more to the story.

But I couldn't just blurt out that I intended to head straight home. I didn't know if the three of us would be friends and I sure as hell couldn't know if they could be trusted to keep that secret. They could tell anyone, and I might get arrested for intending to conspire against the crown, or something like that.

Who knew how much trouble I'd get in?

I had to be smart about it all. If the Prince didn't send me home right away, I'd have to sabotage my place in the competition by any means necessary. But I could bet I was breaking a dozen laws by even thinking about doing something like that. I had to be careful, and that meant trusting only myself.

The last girl to arrive was a Five called Rose from St George. She was short, curvy, and had reddish brown skin, much the same tone as Patch's, though hers was covered in acne. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bun on the top of her head.

She seemed nice enough, but not all that inclined to get involved in conversation. She was polite, and smiled easily, but she watched us too closely, spoke too carefully.

She didn't want friends, that much was clear. She saw us as competition, and she was here to win. She wouldn't befriend us until she was sure we were worth befriending.

By the way she looked me over, it was clear she'd dismissed me almost immediately.

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you let them touch your hair." Rose shuddered in revulsion.

"It was really kind of you, Eris." Luna assured, patting my hand. I smiled sideways at her, thankful.

Now that Rose had commented, I wondered if I'd made a mistake.

We'd come off the plane and been ushered straight out of the airport, our officials warning us that there was a lot of people waiting, and we could stop to sign autographs and pictures if we wanted, but we _did_ have to hurry to the car.

Rose had made a beeline straight for the vehicle, Luna and Lauren had stopped for people who'd called their names.

I'd planned to breeze right passed, looking irritated and uptight, just to get things off to a bad start for the cameras.

But then I'd heard a high, childish voice call my name, and I'd glanced over out of instinct. Only to find a little girl with ginger hair, smiling bright as the sun as she balanced on her mother's hip.

I couldn't very well ignore her. She'd proclaimed that I'd be Queen one day, due to the fact we both had the same hair colour, and I'd bent at the knees so she could slide an orange peony flower behind my ear.

As soon as I'd turned away from them, another child had called my name, and a little blonde boy had tucked a big ruby poppy into a curl at my shoulder. The next had balanced a half dozen bluebells at the back of my head.

By the time I'd climbed into the car, we were very late, and almost every curl on my head was occupied with a flower. Considering the curls were so thick with frizz, they didn't even slide out.

I knew I was trying to set the worst possible impression, but I couldn't be awful to _children_. Now I wondered, what with Rose's disgust and Luna's support, if it would be considered a grab at attention, and would be taken as a sign of me being an actual competitor in the Selection.

"You've got so many fans, Lauren!" Luna exclaimed, staring out at the masses.

The car had blacked out windows, but the people cheered anyway. They lined every single street, barriers holding them back, waving the Illéan flag and calling out the names of their favourite girls.

Lauren was absolutely the favourite, out of the four of us. I didn't pay too much attention to it, too interested in watching Rose's cheeks morph into brighter shades of red by the minute.

The city we journeyed through was magnificent. Everything seemed to be made of white stone, the whole sprawling maze elegant in every way. It had been designed with beauty in mind, it seemed. Everything was clean, spotless even. There was even plants everywhere, real, living trees lining the pavements, and flowers in every window.

It was a far cry from Fames, for certain.

And then we were there, the palace. The first thing we saw was the wall surrounding it. A towering white monstrosity, imposing in all it's glory. Higher than any single building we'd driven passed so far. When we rolled through the cast iron gates, as tall as the wall itself, Luna let loose a little gasp.

"Gamiméni kólasi." I breathed, staring in awe at the magnificence of the palace we were currently rolling towards.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Words:

Gamiméni kólasi - Greek for 'fucking hell'.


	7. Chapter Seven - Curtsies and Storms

"So uh, we just walk in, curtsy, and then we can go and drink?"

Rose rolled her eyes at me so hard I wondered if she'd sprained them. I'd been watching her practice her curtsy for nearly half an hour, ever since the stylists had released her.

Luna, who caught on before I did that Rose wouldn't bother to answer, leaned towards me and took my hand in a very kind gesture.

"You walk, very carefully, to the end of the golden carpet. When your reach the end, you curtsy first to the Queen, and then the King. Make sure you point your face to the floor in a show of submission. Keeping eye contact with them may be taken as an insult."

"Oh really?" I tucked the information away.

"You have to walk to the right, remember that, okay? You'll walk to the right and gather with the rest of us, and then we'll be greeted by the King, and he'll order the celebration started."

"Positions!" Nala called. She was our new babysitter, apparently. A tall, thin woman that wore a scarf to cover her hair, neck and chest. Her dark eyes were sharp and her face held a wealth of intelligence.

I took a place behind Luna and in front of Lauren, knowing that with Luna's sweetness and Lauren's beauty, my mess of a curtsy would be particularly horrendous.

Nala's mouth grew thin when I passed her, and it looked like she wanted to say something, but she clamped her mouth shut as we filed from the room we'd had our make-overs in.

Not that I'd had anything done. I hadn't allowed them to touch my hair, hadn't allowed them to make permanent changes. They'd merely removed most of the hair from my body – where I came from, women couldn't afford razors, we were as hairy as men – and they'd dyed my eyebrows dark brown and my eyelashes black.

They'd wanted to alter more, but after threatening physical violence, they'd backed off, hissing and spitting.

They had won with the outfit though; they'd shoved me into a long purple dress that flowed around my legs and clung to my ribs and chest. The neckline plunged, and the arms only covered my shoulders, and were a little puffy. I didn't like it, and knew it looked horrid next to my pale skin, clashing awfully with my orange hair, which was unbound and had been tamed just a little into bigger, neater curls. I didn't know much about fashion, but even I knew I looked awful.

We were marched at a fast pace through the palace, and though I didn't look around – too focused on not wobbling in the tiny heels the stylists had forced my feet into – from the _ooohing_ and _aahhing_ of the other Selection girls, it must have been pretty spectacular.

Nala stopped in front of large double doors which looked to be made of white marble.

"Remember," the woman called, "Smile wide with your heads high; this will be the first impression you deliver to your possible future in-laws."

A few giggled, but most threw beaming grins onto their faces, taking the advice completely seriously. Skies above.

"How come the children aren't sat on thrones?" I hissed.

"This is a formal event," Lauren answered from behind as we approached the open doors. "The King and Queen sit alone; because that's how they rule."

We filed into the room, and I was almost blinded by the light of it. We turned from the balcony onto which we'd emerged, and then descended the grand staircase. I took the time to inspect the room.

It was made entirely of whites, golds and creams, a massive room that looked to be more or less circular, the back wall almost entirely made of windows. A massive chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling threw everything into harsh, yellow light. A sea of faces stared up at us, judging our every move, picking the winner even now.

I hit the floor and almost stumbled in the flowing dress and high shoes. They were barely only two inches off the floor, but I'd never in my life worn heels. Regardless, I straightened, jerked up my chin and flattened my shoulders back. Let them stare at the awful dress and stupid hair and scoff. The quicker they scorned me the quicker I'd leave.

Luna was a meter in front, Lauren a meter behind, and we advanced at a steady pace down a golden carpet towards a little raised platform at the back of the room, where there perched two thrones, one higher than the other. In the highest sat the King, in the lower sat the Queen.

She wore a dress of blue, he a suit of deep silver. The crowns on their heads were golden, inlaid with jewels of all colours. Hers was more elegant, more feminine.

Luna curtsied, and it was perfect. The King and Queen both smiled at her, impressed. Then it was my turn.

Mercifully, I didn't stumble. As I took my place, I looked each dead in the face, no smile, no respect, I couldn't muster even a hint of regret at the insult I was currently delivering.

Could I be arrested for this? If I didn't curtsy, I would be. So I dropped into one for the Queen, not low enough, not held long enough to convey any ounce of respect. I did not dip my head, nor did I avert my eyes. Her mouth tightened at the insult, her blue eyes widening with shock, but she had no other reaction.

I rose, shifted to face the King, and gave him the same pitiful curtsy. But fury made my hands shake, and it rushed up my arms to force my teeth together, to narrow my eyes and curl my lip in hatred.

Rising, I turned on my heel and marched, straight backed and stiff, to stand next to Luna at the edge of the crowd. She was staring in panic, and when Lauren stepped from the carpet, her smile dropped immediately.

There were only three other girls after Lauren, and I barely saw their curtsies, too busy glancing around for the table that would give me alcohol. Only the commanding voice of the King brought me back to attention.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" The King announced to the whole, packed room. "To our new, beautiful guests!" there was applause, swiftly stopped. "This day is special for all of us; it marks the start of a new chapter of our country, a new chapter for my family, and for you young women, most of all." He raised a glass, which I hadn't noticed in his hand, towards us. "One of you, at the end of this competition, will not only become a wife, but a Princess and one day, a Queen. The time ahead of you may seem daunting, and the majority of you will probably doubt that you could face this future. However, I have faith in my son, and I have faith in the Daughters of Illéa. I look forward to meeting my future daughter, and wish every single woman here the best luck in the world."

There was louder and longer applause from the crowd this time, and people were smiling and nodding in approval of the King. The majority of the girls around me were giddy with excitement, all imagining they were the daughter the King spoke of.

"Without further ado!" the King called, waved a hand, and the orchestra in the corner started up in earnest.

"I need a drink." I announced.

"Why don't you like them, Eris?" Luna murmured as we took seats at a round table set aside specifically for Selection women. There were only a handful of others at this one, but the one opposite was much fuller, and much louder.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I chucked back some of the amber liquid I'd snatched from a passing butler.

"Oh, come on." Lauren rolled her dark eyes and straightened the folds of the deep green dress the stylists had said best suited her. That dress was a far cry better than mine.

"What?"

"That was a _fuck you_ if ever I did see one." Lauren face was completely unyielding as she faced me. Luna blushed at the curse words.

They were both staring expectantly. Should I say something? There was no telling if this tentative friendship between the three of us would last. Lauren had certainly been getting a lot of attention from almost everyone; Already, she seemed to be a favourite. I didn't know where her loyalties might lie in few days, even a few hours.

"I just... I don't belong here." I told them, a half truth.

"It's because you're a Seven?" Luna frowned delicately. "Do you blame them... For your situation?"

I blinked. Smart girl, I supposed, to have seen through my anger so easily.

"In part." I admitted, "But I'm not entirely sure I want to be here."

They exchanged a glance, and in that moment I saw their shared confusion at my uncertainty. For them, this was the fulfillment of every wish they'd ever made.

"Well, I mean..." Lauren glanced around, at our half empty table. This space was reserved for the Selection women, but not many girls had chosen to sit at this table. The one just across from us was much fuller, and much louder. "If _I_ was hoping to leave the palace..." She mused aloud.

"I certainly wouldn't disrespect the King and Queen." Luna interjected, trying her best to look as aloof as Lauren was posing.

"Quite right." Lauren praised her, "If it was _me_ , plotting to leave, well... I'd probably go after the Prince."

"That would be smart." I nodded thoughtfully. Gave them a half smile of thanks.

"It's a dangerous place, this palace." Lauren warned, the quiet amusement gone. "Everyone knows it. Play your game carefully, Eris."

Impressed with her bravery, I decided right there that we'd be friends.

The air eventually grew too stiff and hot for me to stand being inside much longer.

Only one exit tonight; The doors leading into the rest of the palace were blocked by Gruks, but there was a steady stream of finely dressed people flowing out the huge, double back doors, thrown wide to let in fresh air.

I walked alone. Luna and Lauren had both been asked to dance, and I'd took the opportunity to sneak away. Some men, all of them soldiers, had ignored my warning glares and been brave enough to ask me for a dance, but I'd refused them all.

Not because I was too good to dance, or because I was trying to be awful. Some of them had even be attractive enough to tempt me, but... I couldn't dance.

So I strolled away from the lantern lit paths heading into the gardens, beautiful even at night time, and headed instead over flat grass into the deepest shadows, seeking solitude.

I settled on a low marble bench, facing the palace. From my distance, I could almost see all of it, laid out before me. The sheer size of it made my head spin, too big even to fit into the full field of my vision, probably bigger even than my Fames.

A noise had me on my feet in an instant, and whirling to the tall line of bushes behind me. Only a small moon tonight, so the darkness was absolute. A little shuffle of movement, the rustle of clothes, had me bracing for the worst-

 _"Ouch!"_

A very tiny figure dropped right out of the wall of shadow, landing with a thud on the grass, flat on her belly. Blinking, I moved automatically to help her stand.

"Good thing your dress is so puffy, else that might have really hurt." I said, as I scooped her right off the grass, surprised at the weight of her, and placed her gently back on her feet.

Looking up at me, she seemed to realise all at once the situation she was in, and gave a terrified, high-pitch squeak. She tried to dart around me, the huge skirts of her dress swinging wildly.

"Hey, hey." I caught her by the shoulders and planted her in place, then dipped down onto my knees so I could look into her eyes. "It's okay, meine Süße. You're safe with me, all right?"

"I'm going to be in trouble." She panted, "I'm going to be in so much trouble."

"Don't worry about that for now."

I couldn't very well let her tear off back to the Ball, coated in twigs, grass and leaves, with wild eyes and a sweaty face. She might get in more trouble for being a mess than she would for going missing. No room for dirt in the palace.

"Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

She looked down at herself, and panicked all over again at the dirt on her dress. Steering her back to the bench, I sat her down gently.

"Just breathe." I instructed, as I started a clean-sweep of her outfit. "Why were you out here, anyhow?"

"I thought..." She sniffed and rubbed her nose. "I thought you'd be nice. All the other girls I tried to speak to weren't very... Nice. And you let those children put flowers in your hair... So..." She trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

"Well, I am nice." I assured her, smiling. Her eyes brightened a bit. "And you're clean." I stood, proud of my work. There were still a few smudges of faint mud, but there wasn't much I could do about those. "Let me fix your hair."

I sat on the bench beside her and set to work again.

"Can... Can we be friends?"

"Sure." I promised easily, "I'm always in need of new friends. Especially pretty ones." I tweaked her nose, and she let loose a tentative giggle, swatting me away.

"Amber!" The sharp tone made the girl beneath my hands jolt round suddenly.

Amber... I knew that name, and I knew too that light auburn hair, halfway between blonde and red, as she gave a sharp, frightened intake of breath.

Amber Schreave... Skies above, the Princess of Illéa had just guilt tripped me into agreeing to be her friend.

And that voice... My stomach flipped with anticipation as the Prince of Illéa made his way over the grass towards us.

* * *

Amber stopped short, clearly distressed to find a disapproving scowl on her brother's face. His stomp was heavy as he made his way over the grass, not at all amused to see the two of us together.

"Asher?" She questioned, a little nervously.

On instinct, I stepped forward to put a hand on her shoulder, drawing her into my side protectively. On instinct, she shrank into me, half hiding her face in my waist.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked harshly, "Where are your nannies?"

"Don't speak to her like that." I said, voice cold. The Prince stopped suddenly, eyebrows flicking up.

He looked nothing like he did on the big screen back in Fames. Which was irritating, because he was infinitely more beautiful than the camera managed to capture.

On screen, he looked like a corpse. Pale hair, pale face, pale eyes. Something devoid of life, of energy or charisma. But under the natural light of the low hanging half-moon, he looked like some ancient god, dipped in molten silver.

I'd only ever seen him sat in a large throne, and it dwarfed him in size; in reality, he was tall, taller than me by at least a foot. With wide shoulders and long legs, and he wasn't as slim as that throne made him, either. Bulky, in fact. The expensive suit - soft grey, like rain clouds - was trimmed to fit him perfectly, and it was clear his form beneath the layers of material was striving for perfection.

Which was good, because his face was very close to exactly that.

I'd never seen anyone like him. People back in Fames weren't pretty. All of us dirty, all of us hairy, sweaty, too busy trying to survive to not look like the weathered, weary people the world had crafted us into.

But Prince Asher, skies above, Prince Asher was _beautiful_. His hair looked silver in this lighting, but it was clear it was close to platinum blonde. Thick, unruly, messy in a way that said he'd tried hard to get it like that. His face... Thick, dark brows, sharp cheekbones, strong nose, rigid jaw, full lips. Everything you'd need to construct the perfect face, had he been made in a laboratory? And those _eyes._ In this light, they too looked to be pale silver.

The Prince seemed to recover from my challenge, busy observing me like I was him. When he was done, he dismissed me entirely, looking right at Amber.

"Go inside, mother is looking for you." That got her attention, but still she clung to me.

"How about I walk you back, meine Süße?" I started to lead her around her brother.

"No." He stepped into our path. "I'd like to speak to you, Lady Eris."

We scowled at each other, a silent battle of wills. I was loath to do anything he asked, but I couldn't help thinking he was about to send me home. My heart raced. This could be it. My opportunity. Back on the plane tonight, in my own bed by tomorrow morning. A dream come true.

But Amber... I looked down into her somber face, bottom lip puckered pitifully. I sighed. It didn't matter. She _couldn't_ matter. I had little sisters like her at home. On my way out, I'd ask Luna and Lauren to befriend her, and Amber would soon forget about me.

"I'll watch you to the door," I told her, and walked her in a wide arc around the Prince. She turned towards me, distressed, but I hushed her, "I'll be right here, watching. I can see all the way to the door, can you see it too?"

She nodded, still unsure about leaving on her own. "I'm afraid of the dark." She murmured to her shoes, hazel eyes welling.

"Oh, for goodness sake-" the Prince hissed, but I flashed him a glare so fierce he fell silent.

"All the more reason for me to stay out here," I pinched her cheeks until she smiled, and I grinned. "I'll fight all the things in the dark, while you spend the rest of the evening in the light. Then, when you go to bed, you won't have to be scared, because you'll know I've already killed everything that might hurt you."

"Won't you be hurt?" Her eyes grew wide in childish horror.

"No, no, no." I glanced around, and bent to whisper in her ear. "I'm just as scary as the monsters, you see."

"That makes sense." She mused, nodding slowly. "You'll tell me about the monsters you fight?"

"Of course, but only if you hurry."

She tore off, streaking towards the light of the glowing doorway, music pouring out of it like water from a pitcher. Smooth, welcome. I watched until her little form had disappeared into that safe haven, and she turned back to search. She couldn't see me, stood out here in the dark, but she waved anyway.

Finally, I turned to address her brother. He was staring like I was something odd he'd never encountered before. Some foreign creature, newly discovered, fascinating and horrifying all at once.

"You shouldn't encourage her."

"She's going to believe in monsters, whatever adults say. Might as well give her a way of believing they can be beaten."

The confusion grew on his face. "You're... strange, Eris Black."

"I get that a lot." I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled harder at him. "Did you need something?"

"Why were you with my sister?"

"She followed me out here. Wanted a friend."

"Odd choice." He sniffed, still inspecting me this way and that. Like tilting his head might show him the secrets hiding in the snarls of my orange hair.

"Something we'd both agree on." I gave him a humourless, frigid smile. "Was that all? Because if you're going to continue to be so boring, there's vodka inside with my name on it."

For a moment, he looked absolutely scandalised, and in the next second, he looked positively delighted with my attitude. "Wow. I thought you'd be a handful, but I never imagined you'd be quite so funny."

"Glad I can entertain you."

He laughed. It was a good laugh. Deep, rich. Full of life. The visual personification of drizzled honey. I hated it. "Can I ask you a question, Lady Eris?"

I stared at him, wary. "Yes."

" _Why_ do you despise me?"

"I have a problem with loud men who are mean to quiet children."

He looked back towards the palace, as if he could find Amber behind those thick stone walls. "She's silly. Always getting herself in trouble because her head is in the clouds. It's not my fault she doesn't listen."

"Whatever." I scoffed, spinning to march back towards the ball.

"Hang on a second!" He called, and hurtled after me. With his long legs and my stupid shoes, he was in front of me in an instant, herding me backwards. Or trying to, he rocked back just a moment before he realised I wouldn't be moved. "I just want to talk."

"About what?" My demand was half exasperation, half annoyance.

"I don't know." He shoved his hand through his hair, caught me watching him, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Aren't we supposed to be getting to know one another? _Bonding?_ Building a relationship?"

"If I wanted a relationship with a prick, I'd carry a mirror around." I tried to step around him. He shifted into my path.

"Did you just insult me _and_ yourself? Impressive." He smirked, eyes alight and dancing with amusement. Mischief weighed heavy in his gaze, and it made my bones sing. Not good. Very not good. People like him and people like me were not meant to be around one another. Trouble. Too much trouble.

"Yeah, well, that's me. Impressive."

"Modest too, I'd say." He cast a glance over me, and smiled wide again, flashing teeth. "And you should certainly stay that way, in that dress. It looks like a big bruise." He laughed again.

"The stylists here don't like me much." I rolled my eyes. If he wasn't going to let me leave, I wasn't going to stand in these stupid heels. I turned around and marched right back to the bench I'd been sitting on before Amber had arrived. The marble was cold and went right through the thin layers of the horrendous dress, but I fought the shiver back.

It's not like he could stop me leaving if I really wanted to, but the longer we talked the more he would hate me, and the quicker he'd send me home. Best to carry on talking.

"I've been told." He followed, and after a moments thought he took the open space next to me. The heat of him seeped outwards, and I hated him for that, too. "I was hoping they'd see sense and do something with all that awful hair, but I guess you argued to keep it."

"I happen to like my hair." I stuck up my nose at him. "Shame you haven't seen sense and ordered the stylists to construct you a new personality, but I guess money does have its limits."

Again, that moment of shocked silence, before the comment seemed to register with him and he burst into raucous laughter. This insult seemed to be his favourite so far, because he even doubled over with his hand to his stomach, bending low over his knees.

"You're a funny thing, darling."

"Don't call me that."

He chuckled again. "It's refreshing to meet a real person. Half the women I've spoken to tonight have been starry-eyed and besotted. The other half have tried their best to act that way."

"Deluded."

"Almost definitely," He agreed, without an argument for his own character. Interesting. He pulled a metal flask from the inside of his suit jacket and took a swig. Without asking, he handed it to me. I took it without comment and threw some back.

"Thank you." I handed it over.

"You're welcome." He drank again from it. "At least you have manners. That's something."

"I might be a prick, but I was raised right."

Asher glanced at me and shook his head. "It's nice. For someone to look past all my gorgeousness, charm and integrity, see the dickhead underneath, and be brave enough to hate me for all the right reasons."

He startled a laugh right out of me. A proper laugh, one I clamped down on quickly. Too late, he was already grinning sidelong at me.

"You're strange." I told him, frowning.

"I get that a lot." He echoed me. Smiled, shook his head again, and stood up. "I'll see you at breakfast, Lady Eris."

"It's Eris." I corrected, automatically.

"Well, it's still _Prince_ Asher to you, but thank you for giving me permission. Good evening." He bowed at the waist, oddly formal after the conversation we just had, and started striding away.

But then his comment registered, and my eyes grew round with horror. "Wait! Hang on a second!"

I hurtled after him, blocking his path like he had mine. "What are you talking about, _'breakfast?'"_

"I didn't think that was too difficult a concept to understand." He frowned down at me. Stars, he was so tall. Patch and him would probably be eye to eye.

"I understood it just fine, you imbecile. What I _don't_ understand is why you'd keep me here long enough to warrant me having breakfast!"

"Why on earth would I send you home?" He seemed genuinely surprised by the idea. He tucked his hands behind his back, straightening his posture. The motion reminded me of someone who'd received military training.

"Were you not present for our entire conversation? I despise you! You clearly don't like me! You're supposed to be finding a wife, and I am _clearly_ not wife material. So send me home."

"Wife material." He snorted, "That's something we can certainly agree on. No. You are not fit for this competition, Eris. But you are certainly quite entertaining. This process is going to be tedious and tiresome and at the very least, you'll be a welcome distraction."

He moved to march around me, all the considerable, solid six feet something of him. Infuriated and blinded completely by my own rage, I grabbed his forearm with one hand and swung him promptly back round to face me, yanking him down a couple of inches to better glare into his face.

Prince Asher seemed impressed rather than shocked at the show of strength, especially from a woman a full foot shorter.

"You can't keep me here against my will, Asher."

His eyebrows quirked up at the missing title we were supposed to address him by, but the title could kiss my ass. He brushed my hand off his arm, but did not lean away.

"But the thing is, I _can_." He smiled cheerfully. All teeth. "I'm the Prince, which means I'm the only person in this palace able to dismiss a Selection girl. Since you're a Selection girl, your fate is in _my_ hands."

"You think I'll make this easy for you? You think I'll roll over like a dog and accept your blatant disrespect? I want to go home, and you're going to give me what I want."

"Or what, darling?" He breathed, leaning down like I was arching up. Eyes flaring with challenge, cheekbones flushing with anticipation. The smile was pure malice.

"I'll make your life a living hell." I snarled, my hands reached automatically, gripping the lapels of his fine jacket, scrunching it harshly in my fury drenched fists. Dragging him an inch closer. He let me. "Would you unleash me on your life, Asher Schreave?"

"I dare you, love." He growled right back.

"You think I couldn't do it?"

"Oh no," his smile was brighter than the moon in the sky and colder than the black night surrounding it. "I absolutely think you could. I see the storm in your eyes, darling. Skies above, I invite you to ruin me."

He seized my wrists and yanked my hands from his clothes, shoving me aside and striding off. I turned to watch him go, my chest heaving with anger and my wrists still burning where he had touched them.

I wondered, suddenly and fleetingly, as to why the Prince of Illéa was so broken.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Comment and vote if you enjoyed xo**

Meine Süße - German for 'my sweet'.


	8. Chapter Eight - Letter

"Mania?"

No answer. Floorboards creaked under Nike's bare soles as she stepped into the din of the bedroom. Nothing but stale air, reeking faintly of sweat and vomit. Mania had begged them to close the curtains the moment the sun had risen, shrieking about it burning her skin away from her bones.

Nike, heart stuttering in her chest, took up a stance beside the massive bed that Elizabeth claimed as her own. She had relocated to the couch in her study so that Mania could have the room to herself. It wasn't really for Mania's benefit though, more to keep her from scaring the children.

If Nike was being honest with herself, and she certainly always tried to be, she wasn't entirely sure why they had strapped Mania down to the bed at all. Didn't know why they were washing down her sweaty grey skin or stroking back her matted cherry red hair. Nike definitely wasn't grateful for the duty of having to clean up her big sister's vomit, splattered over her own face and all over the floorboards. Then there was the task of wiping down her legs when she decided to piss over herself, Nike _especially_ appreciated that task.

When Eris had carried Mania through the back door, Nike had thought she'd brought home a pile of bones. Bones wrapped in wet paper, sagging and fragile. When Eris had lifted her onto the kitchen table, shoved back the snarls of red hair to reveal their sister's face, Nike had felt nothing. Not relief, not happiness, not even cool acknowledgement that said she recognised the situation and accepted it.

It seemed like some cruel joke. Eris leaving was bad enough, but to have her replaced with _Mania?_ It was like trading a dog for the stick it played with.

That analogy wasn't fair, to either of her sisters. But still.

Nike had enough to worry about, what with her favourite sister working herself to her bones every day, and having those bones beaten and battered every night. Then to have Eris leave. Taking her strength, her competence, her good company with her... Nike had been devastated. They'd never been separated for more than a day, for as long as Nike could remember.

Then for _this?_ To not only have the burden of the rest of the children on her back, but her big sister adding to that weight too? Deranged and hysterical as she was? Hissing about insects under her skin and calling for the release of the drugs she'd been shooting into her veins for who knows how long.

Sighing, Nike bent over Mania's form, wiped down her face and chest with one cool cloth, and then spread the other she'd brought with her over Mania's forehead.

Once that task was done, she tipped back Mania's chin to dribble the herbal water into her mouth from the chipped bowl she'd brought up with her. Valerie, the Medicine Woman who Eris had gone to find, had sent back a big pouch of herbs which would hopefully speed along Mania's withdrawal process. At the very least, it might soothe her insides while the drugs left her system.

Nike turned to leave, satisfied she'd completed her task.

"Ris?" Mania's voice rasped out of her, a skeleton voice. A voice that whispered from the pit of a grave. Nothing human about it, really.

Nike shrank away. "Ris isn't here." She couldn't help the snap in her voice. "It's Nike."

"Nikey." Mania garbled, trying hard to force open the heavy hoods of her eyes. Her cracked lips tilted upwards, "Baby sister. Baby, baby, baby," She crooned deliriously. "I sent you a present. Never forgot your birthday. You got it, didn't you? You got your present?"

"You didn't send me anything." Nike frowned, "You haven't been around for the last three birthday's." Eris had been. Eris had even bought her some fresh paints for her seventeenth just last month. Nike had no idea where she'd got the money from, or who she'd stolen them off, but Nike didn't care to ask.

"Three... Birthdays?" Mania squinted at Nike, but couldn't seem to find her. "Where's Ris? Where's our sister?"

" _My_ sister," Nike growled, Mania didn't deserve to call either of them sister. "Isn't here. She left this morning. The palace took her."

"The palace?" It wasn't fair, Nike decided, trying to tell her anything. Her brain was too addled, too mixed up between the hallucinations the drugs provided and the real world she was grounded in.

Nike turned to leave. Started walking away. Stopped, turned back. Stared at the skeleton in the bed. Mania blinked back at her, insanity pacing rhythms in those coal black eyes, the same eyes their mother had handed down to all three of her children.

"I am so..." Nike curled her lip, "Disgusted by you."

She left before she could see her big sister's expression, but the wailing started afresh as she slammed the door behind her. Good. She should suffer. Off getting high while Nike and Eris worked until their bones bent. Disappearing for months only to get herself in with Jax and his awful lot. Dumping her problems on her family and this house.

Their mother had named them well, Nike thought as she stomped down the stairs. Mania suited the eldest Black sister, strapped down to a bed and watching the walls dance around her.

Perhaps their mother had known something no one else had, perhaps, even, their mother had cursed them, giving them these names.

"Patch?"

"Hey, Nikes." His big shoulders seemed to squeeze the door frame outwards, like it was making more room for him in it.

"Come in." She motioned. He seemed reluctant. Eris had left only that morning, but it seemed like she'd been gone for a decade. Patch had been at her side every moment he could spare this week, sleeping on their floor most nights. Without her now he seemed lost, unsure of where his place was, unsure of his presence in a house he'd only had one reason to visit.

They were all a little lost. The children were somber at dinner. Everyone kept glancing at the empty chair which seemed to take up too much space. There was no laughter, no fighting, no life to the scene.

Even little Fern had been confused, big green eyes swinging this way and that, looking for the flash of bright colour unique to Eris. She'd seem dissatisfied with Nike's own brand of orange, lighter than Eris's, closer to blonde than red, but Fern had let Nike comfort her all the same. There was nothing to be done for the other children, who knew the exact circumstances of Eris's absence and resented it completely. Elizabeth received very dirty looks for the duration of dinner.

"It's quiet." Patch observed, perching on a kitchen stool. She'd never seen him so skittish.

"Too quiet." Nike nodded, "Eris made time for every single one of them. We're all feeling a little lost."

"They love you too." He glanced up, smiling that easy smile that seemed so enthralling to everyone else. It was a nice smile, Nike could admit. He was a good looking man, a man that any woman would be happy with. But his smile didn't do anything for her. Never had done.

"Yeah, I know. But Ris knows them better than I do. Speaks to them better than I do. She has a way with people."

"When she isn't terrifying them." There it was, that smile again. This one was softer, gentler, not meant for everyone else to look at, but a whisper of something he kept just for himself.

Still, Nike did not feel the pull that other's seemed to feel. Even Clarabelle and Huxley went scarlet at the sight of Patch. Nike had only ever felt that flush of heat when Tanya, the small blonde woman she worked with on the farms, smiled her way.

"I know it sounds horrific, and you can hate me all you want for saying it, but... I'm almost relieved she's gone."

Nike flashed him a look so full of rage he quickly rushed to speak.

"Not like that! I just mean... Well, she don't _rest_ , Nike. She's constantly working, never eating. If she'd carried on much longer, I really think something bad would've happened."

He seemed so earnest that Nike had to forgive the insult. But on some level, he was right. Of course he was. Eris worked from sunup till sundown in the mines, swinging heavy tools, breathing toxic air. Then at nights, she trudged down to the Pits and fought both men and women in the din of a shady warehouse while a mob screamed down at her to inflict more violence.

"It's not fair to say that. She didn't want to leave."

"I know," Patch nodded, shaking his mop of black curls, "I know she didn't. But surely it was what's best. She'll go and eat loads of food, sit around all day for a week or two, and when she comes home she'll have earned enough money for her to not go back to the Pits for a while, right?"

Nike knew what he was saying was the truth of it. Eris sacrificed too much. Worked too much. Fought too much. Eventually, she'd have been injured too badly for her to ever work or fight again. Or she'd have been killed. Nike couldn't let any of those futures become reality.

"She hasn't gone to win a Prince, Patch." She was thinking hard now, worry pooling in the pit of her stomach. "She went because Elizabeth forced her to go. You think she'll sit around idly while the Prince decides her fate?"

"Yeah, Ris might ask to leave as soon as she gets there, but surely-"

"She won't see this as an opportunity for her to have a holiday. She won't do what's best for her. She'll go, make a fuss, and be home by morning."

"Maybe you can call her. Suggest staying there for a while?"

"You have the number for the palace, do you?" Nike frowned at him. He sagged.

"Well, I suppose we'll see her soon then." He shrugged.

Rain started to patter against the windows. Just a murmur at first, but it was soon pelting the glass like it had a grudge against the dusty surfaces. Nike frowned out into the back garden.

"There has to be a way." She shook her head, thinking hard.

"Just forget I said anything, Nikes. Ris'll do what's best for the family, you know that. Even if she has to punch the Prince in the nose to get home, she'll do it."

"That's what concerns me." Nike eyed him, scowling now. Her ridiculous sister, with her stubborn brash ways, always hurtling into trouble. "We just need the chance to tell her to stay there. Just for a while."

"She'll be insulted." Patch warned. "She'd think you don't want her."

"I couldn't care what she thinks, as long as she's alive to think it."

Patch rolled his eyes and crossed his big arms over his chest. She could practically see his thoughts, cursing the name of Black, wondering what he'd done in a past life to get attached to such a difficult family.

Nike wondered that often herself.

Maybe the Prince would _like_ Eris. Maybe he'd find her endearing, at the very least maybe a little bit fascinating. But knowing Ris, she'd be so damn awful to him that he'd send her right home. Stars help him if he told her she couldn't leave the palace. For a moment, Nike's heart went out to him, facing down her sister would probably traumatise him, sheltered as he was.

But all he needed was a backbone, just a little one to stand up to Ris and tell her she couldn't leave, couldn't because it was for her own good-

"I need to get a message to the Prince of Illéa." Nike's outburst was so sudden that Patch almost fell off his chair. He stared at her like she'd grown an extra eye.

"You're joking." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"No. No I'm not." Nike paced up and down, feverish in her own conviction. "He's the one that sends them home, Patch. He's the one that can keep her there."

"Have the number for the palace, do you?" He threw her words back at her, and she scowled.

"No. But I know someone who might. Figuratively speaking."

* * *

"This is the worst fucking idea I've ever damn heard of."

"Eris told us to come here if we needed anything."

"Yes," Patch growled down at her, hair pasted flat to his skull and his shirt soaked completely through. "But she probably meant that the woman would help with realistic requests."

The rain beat down on them like it had a grudge. In fact, it was hitting the pavement so hard that it was creating thick mist. Nike couldn't believe their luck, though Patch probably thought he was severely lacking in it, right about now. They'd managed to slip past the Gruks standing guard outside the orphanage, on order of the palace. Though they hadn't been keeping much watch anyway.

"Which number is it?" He asked, they were hurrying down a street lined on both sides with houses. Tiny little ones, all crammed in together. Not all of them were occupied, many of them weren't owned legally. People simply claimed them. Fames didn't exactly have a big market for real estate.

"333." She replied, just as they arrived in front of it.

"Please reconsider." Patch urged as Nike stepped towards the front door.

"Do you want to help Eris or not?" She snapped back at him, shoving long wet coils of hair out of her face. They were so soaked they appeared almost black.

It was a rhetorical question. There was never a need to ask Patch Sallow if he'd do anything for Eris Black; it was like asking trees if they were tall or asking snow if it was cold. It was just a simple fact of life.

With a deep breath that almost left her half drowned, Nike knocked on the front door.

It was opened promptly, by a young woman with blonde hair and honey gold skin. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion as she first looked at Patch, but widened a fraction as she glanced down at Nike.

After she'd inspected her for only a moment, the woman stepped aside.

Nike and Patch hurried into the interior, just in time to watch a very large man lower a very large gun at the end of the corridor they'd entered.

"Oh, just perfect." Patch grunted under his breath, immediately expecting a fight.

"He lowered it, didn't he?" Nike hissed back.

The blonde woman, who was taller than Nike by a couple of inches, and a lot more muscular too, led them silently down the hall. A staircase led upwards beside the open doorway which led into the kitchen. The wallpaper was almost cheerful - a pale violet.

The man they stepped past was huge, taller than Patch a few inches, and he was so thick with muscle he almost looked fat. His skin was as black as the soil that Nike toiled on the farms, but with warm, cherry undertones about his round cheeks and thick neck.

Neither the woman nor the man looked very inviting as they herded Nike and Patch into the kitchen, but the old woman pottering around it looked as close as you could get.

The space itself was cramped. Every single surface seemed to be cluttered with something. Be it crockery or herbs or books or bowls of food, the only thing cleared was the tiny wooden table in the middle of the open room.

Nike remembered Valerie from the Service Office, just two weeks ago. It seemed like a lifetime to her, but Valerie looked the same. Her silver hair was coiled into a braid that swung down her back, and her face and hands - the only bits of skin on show - were severely wrinkled. Though her spine was straight as she turned towards them and gave a smile.

"How did you slip past my guards?"

"Guards, ma'am?" Nike blinked.

"The ones monitoring the orphanage. Last they reported to me, the only movement around the building was Eris leaving this morning, and Patch Sallow entering it this evening. The two of you are supposed to still be there." Her watchful gaze made it feel like Nike was naked; completely laid bare to this intelligent woman.

"The woods join on to our back garden."

"And you breezed right through them." She assumed, nodding as she took a seat at the table, leaving Patch and Nike stood dripping water all over the floorboards. They huddled there, shivering slightly, looking distinctly pitiful.

"Your sister has asked for enough." The black man behind them said suddenly, moving to stand against the sink, back to the large window. His accent was foreign, but Nike hadn't heard many accents different to her own in her lifetime, so she couldn't place it at all. "Why is it you've come?"

"Calm, Kadar." Valerie lifted a hand, "I'm sure they have good reason."

"You already put yourself at risk by helping the other girl. Now her sister has come asking for more favours. How long before the Gruks come knocking, led here by their foolishness?" Kadar didn't say it angrily. In fact, his gruff voice was rather balanced.

"I owe her a debt." Valerie said firmly.

" _We_ owe _Eris_ a debt," The blonde woman corrected, she'd taken up a position by the fridge, leaning casually against it. Nike struggled to look away from her thick biceps and the slither of midriff laid bare as her shirt bunched up under her folded arms. "We owe nothing to the rest of the family."

"How about," Valerie's voice was sharper this time, "We hear them out first?"

She motioned to the chair across from her. Nike took it, and Patch stood at her shoulder, not nearly as imposing as the other two guards, but he'd adopted the role of guard all the same.

Nike took a breath. Valerie was sure to kick her out. If the old woman didn't, then the others would. What she was asking was ludicrous. Ridiculous. She might as well have asked Valerie to send her to the moon.

Shoulders squared. Chin up. Spine straight.

"I need to get a letter to the Prince of Illéa."

Valerie didn't move. Nobody did. In fact, she was pretty sure she spotted a bumblebee pausing in astonishment at the window.

Nike held firm, didn't move, stared her down. Tried not to look at the gun still dangling from Kadar's hand.

"You're joking." The younger woman choked out.

"Of course she's not." Valerie sighed, "She's a Black, isn't she?"

"Please, please listen to me." Nike leaned forward urgently. "The Prince is the only one capable of dismissing Selection girls-"

"And you want him to let Eris go?"

"No." Valerie's silver eyebrows shot upwards, "I want him to keep her there."

"That isn't what she _wants_ -"

"Silence, Mika." Valerie motioned for Nike to go on, inspecting her with curiosity, but also wariness.

"My sister will do anything at all for our family." Nike spoke breathlessly, desperate for Valerie to understand. "She'll even die for us. And that's exactly what she'll do if she carries on living the way she does. She works all day in the mines and fights all night in the Pits. She doesn't eat enough, doesn't rest enough. One day she'll injure herself too badly to ever recover. While I want her back and out of that palace, I would prefer it much more if she lived past the age of twenty."

"And you think her staying in the palace will achieve this?"

"I think the money they send could last for months, maybe even years. Enough for her to stay out of the Pits for a while. If we're lucky, she might even stay long enough to get a little fat and recover from all the toxic air in the mines and all those old injuries from the Pits."

"And if something happens to her while she's there?" Mika demanded, leaning forward.

"She can handle herself." Nike bit back.

"Your mother must have been an interesting woman." Valerie said suddenly, leaning back in her chair. "Do you know where your name comes from?"

"Yes." Nike didn't know where this was going.

"Names are powerful things in my culture. Though many of ours have been lost." Valerie was looking at Mika, "Your mother was tempting the universe, giving her children such powerful names."

"Are you gonna help us or not?" Patch asked, impatient.

Valerie didn't even look at him, but stared at Nike for just a moment longer. Finally, she simply held out her hand.

* * *

"Astoundingly, Prince Asher sent home a staggering _twelve_ contestants." The woman on the television was speaking with just enough bluntness to condemn Asher's actions. "No news from the palace as to why that number is so high, though we're all certain that our Prince has a plan in place that will allow him to find the perfect future Princess, and Queen."

Asher rubbed a hand over his aching eyes, irritated at watching another fucking news report. They all seemed to be judging whatever course of action he took. This was the first time in his life he'd had a little bit of power over something, and so far it seemed to be going about as well as everyone had expected.

Those expectations, he'd recently realised, hadn't been exactly high.

"Why _did_ you send that many home?"

Peter asked from the coffee table where he was currently eating breakfast. The smell of sausages made Asher's stomach clench, but he was due down at breakfast in half an hour. His mother would question why he wasn't eating if he had his fill now.

He'd already had this conversation with his parents, _very_ early this morning. He'd even been summoned to their private quarters, and he hadn't spent a significant amount of time there for years.

"Some of them got too drunk. Some of them had been exceptionally boring or exceptionally inappropriate. Some of them had been flirting with Guards."

"I thought you would have liked the inappropriate ones." Peter scoffed.

He tried to send his friend a glare, but couldn't quite summon enough energy to lift himself from the slumped position in his armchair.

"You'd have thought, wouldn't you?" He deadpanned.

Some of them had flirted, of course. Hinted at their willingness to do anything and everything that would get them ahead, gain them favour. He'd thought of taking some of the prettier ones up on their offer, but it was too risky on the very first evening. He was being watched too closely for comfort, and if he'd kept those sorts of girls in the competition, it could only lead to scandal, and that he'd certainly had enough of.

Obviously, he'd kept some of those pretty ones, just in case their offers still stood in the future.

Of course, no one else had _threatened_ him.

Eris Black had been the most inappropriate by far. Not only had she disrespected his mother and father in front of hundreds of people, looked terrible in that stupid purple dress, and threatened to make his life miserable, she'd also ended the night blind drunk.

Not many people had witnessed that debacle, but Asher had spotted her through the crowd stumbling from the room, and he'd chuckled as he'd sent a Guard to make sure she got back to her room safely.

Still, even now that he was sober - hungover, but it still counted - he found the encounter hilarious. In fact, he found himself grinning absently as he pictured the snarls of her orange hair, her nose scrunched up in fury, the ruby red in her cheeks as she growled up at him. A wild animal.

"Why on earth are you smiling?" Peter demanded.

His green eyes - the exact same shade as his father's - were wide with shock.

"I smile."

"Hardly. Sometimes. _Maybe_ once or twice a decade." Peter gaped.

"Shut up."

"Is it a girl?" He demanded, he seemed desperate to jump up and rush over, but he couldn't seem too interested, or Asher wouldn't tell him.

"It's _not_ what you think."

Peter waited patiently, thrumming with energy. He tried to act disinterested, sipping on his coffee too loudly and thrumming his fingers on the table.

"You know you shouldn't be drinking coffee." Asher reminded him. It escalated his ADHD.

"Let me live my life," Peter replied automatically, "And stop changing the subject."

"It was Eris Black." Asher told him, and Peter's eyes grew - impossibly - a little wider. "Like I said, it's not what you think."

He explained what had happened. By the end, Peter's head was in his hands.

"Is it that bad?"

"That bad?" He blanched, " _That bad?!_ " It was a half shout this time.

Asher sunk deeper into his chair.

"Only you could find the most awful one of the bunch! Only _you_ could take a liking to the exact opposite of what you should be looking for!"

"All right, all right." He sighed.

"No it is not!" Peter was on his feet now, "She threatened a member of the Royal family! Do you not see how dangerous that makes her? She's probably mentally unstable! She could be a rebel in disguise! Probably both!"

"If she was a rebel she'd have taken the opportunity to kill me."

"Do you think this is a joke?!"

He sat up, finally too annoyed to listen rationally to his friend. "Of course not, but she was kind to Amber, and-"

"And nothing! Absolute idiot, letting her stay after literally physically attacking you-"

"That's a bit much." Asher scoffed, but Peter wasn't listening anymore. Instead he was burning a path in the mahogany floor, ranting to himself loudly about Asher's idiocy and the seriousness of the situation.

In truth, some of Peter's outrage had hit home.

Clearly, she was a liability. She didn't want to be here, and she's made it quite plain that she'd do anything to get home. Maybe she'd go to the press. She might even consider going to his _parents_. He didn't even want to imagine the fury that his mother would unleash if she discovered he was keeping a Selection girl here against her will.

"Send her home." Peter ordered, loud enough to startle Asher out of his reverie.

"Pardon?"

"Send her home!" He spun, hands clenched into the front panels of his expensive pale blue suit. It was nice actually, blending smoothly with his pale skin and dark hair. "Are you listening to me?"

"What? Yes, of course." Asher shook his head and rubbed again at his bloodshot eyes. He'd drunk too much last night. Far too much.

"You're completely hopeless." His friend hissed.

"I heard you! I'll send her home, all right?"

"You'd better!"

"Or what?" Asher quirked an eyebrow, amused.

"Or...!" He frowned, at a loss. "Well, I _could_ go to my father. Technically, she is a security risk, and he's the General, after all."

"You wouldn't rat, Peter." He scorned, a little worried despite his faith in his friend.

"No, I wouldn't. But I will if you don't do something about the situation."

"I told you I would, didn't I?"

Peter huffed, but sat again at his table, seeming at least a little satisfied. After a moment, Asher stood. Feeling the judgment rolling off Peter in waves was quite disturbing, and it was a sentiment he felt often from others. It wasn't a feeling he enjoyed, especially from his friend, so he moved to leave.

"I'll see you at lunch, probably."

Peter simply grunted, probably feeling the best way to punish Asher was to pay him no attention at all. Huffing with irritation, Asher left without a goodbye.

It was only a short walk to his own rooms, but he took the long way round to avoid the most populated areas of the palace. Thankfully, most of the nobles that usually meandered around the halls and gardens had been ordered to stay away today, to allow the girls time to settle, and all the Ministers and Advisers had received that same command.

From tomorrow though, things would go back to normal, and Asher would juggle his usual duties as well as his new responsibility with the Selection.

Arriving in the Royal wing, he nodded to the usual Guard as he passed, and soon he was spilling into his own rooms like an overstretched piece of fabric. With some relief, he fell onto the couch in his living room, lying flat back so he could stretch his legs.

His muscles ached and his head was still throbbing faintly. He'd already taken some pain relief, but he was considering the prospect of more.

His father had warned him that the Selection would be relatively stressful, but he hadn't expected it to be this complicated so soon. He'd never been given much responsibility, especially with something so public, with such a high chance of being a complete failure.

Peter was right. In times of such uncertainty, this competition had to go as smoothly as possible. They were trying to win back favour from the masses, trying to distract the public while they stabalised the position of the monarchy.

With so much weighing on this competition, he couldn't have a complication like Eris Black jeopardising things.

A knock on the door startled him to his feet. Sparing a moment to straighten his suit jacket and smooth back his ruffled hair, he faced the door.

"Come in." He ordered.

The door opened immediately. Asher's stomach flipped uncomfortably.

It wasn't a Guard, but a soldier. Soldiers didn't usually venture into the palace, ordered instead to patrol the grounds and the walls, their sole job to be the front line of defense for the occupants of the palace.

"Sir." He nodded, but didn't salute, as he should have done. He was young, no older than Asher himself, but the sternness in his gaze made him seem a tad more mature.

"What is it?" If a solider was here for him, it could only mean trouble.

"A letter, sir."

"Pardon?" Asher blinked; only his butler brought him mail, at nine in the morning, every morning, on the dot. All his mail had to be checked beforehand, unless Asher explicitly trusted the sender.

Instead of replying, he simply reached into his jacket and removed an envelope. He held it aloft, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Is it from my parents?" They sometimes sent notes via maids.

"It's from outside the city, sir."

"Outside the _city?"_

The soldier, seeming exasperated, crossed the room - without being invited - and tossed the letter onto the low glass table in front of his couch.

"Has it been checked?" Asher demanded.

The soldier was turning to leave, "The sender is trusted."

"By the palace?!"

"Not exactly." The soldier smirked suddenly, already at the door and prepared to leave. "Just know that it's very important that you read that letter."

"And if I choose not to? Considering how inappropriate you're currently being?"

The soldier was eyeing him over like an inspect he was considering crushing. There was tangible disgust in the scowl he gave the Prince.

"That's of no consequence to me. My duty is fulfilled by getting it to you. Just know that the girl who wrote that letter went to a lot of effort to get it here, as did the people who carried it across the country."

"Across the _country?!_ "

The soldier left without a backwards glance.

Asher had half a mind to call him back and dismiss him from service, but then he'd have to get permission from his father and uncle Aspen to do so, and it would be an awful lot of hassle.

But he certainly wasn't opening that letter, out of sheer spite if nothing else.

He sat back down on his couch, trying his best not to look at it.

Asher lasted about forty two seconds before grabbing it with a growl.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! xo**


	9. Chapter Nine - Jeans and Dragons

"That's really not necessary." I urged again for the seventh time.

"It's our job, Lady Eris." Said the tiny maid currently stripping the sheets off the humongous bed I'd woken up in this morning.

Not that I remembered actually getting into the bed, nor the room I'd spent the night in. By the end of the ball, I'd been rip roaring drunk. How I'd made it to my own rooms, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"Please don't call me that." I'd said that several times too, "My name is Eris. I'd prefer it if you just spoke to me normally."

"That's also our job, Lady Eris." Smiled a second maid. Robyn, she'd informed me. This one was tall, with wide shoulders and long limbs. Her thick ash blonde hair was coiled into a braid that hung all the way to her waist. Considering her face was completely covered in thick swathes of freckles, it was hard to discern the colour of the skin underneath.

"But-" I tried to plead, but was interrupted as the third maid, Taylor, pressed a couple of pain relief tablets into my hands, accompanied with a glass of water.

This was the stern one, I'd already decided. Dark hair twisted into a tight knot on top of her head, with dark, scowling eyes hidden behind round spectacles, and a scar at the corner of her lip which pulled her mouth down on one side. She'd been decidedly irritated with my hungover state as the three of them had woke me this morning.

"Thank you," I murmured, a little ashamed, as I threw them back and gulped the water.

This wasn't exactly the first impression I'd intended to make. In fact, I hadn't intended to stay long enough to meet the maids assigned to me.

"Don't worry about it, miss." The tiny one said. Kit, I remembered. She was so small she had to actually climb onto the bed to straighten the pillows. "A lot of the guests last night had been excitable, and many had a lot to drink."

"Not that it's something to be proud of." Taylor muttered as she moved to help Kit with the bedding.

Robyn was riffling through a huge oak wardrobe, pulling at flowing dresses with huge skirts.

"I'm sorry you saw me in such a state." I said, genuinely sincere. "I'm not even sure how I got back here-"

"You were carried." Taylor scowled harder, the scar whitening severely.

"Oh." I breathed, and felt my face flame scarlet. But no matter, hopefully that news would make it back to Prince Asher, and he'd dismiss me for being such an embarrassment. "Well, I _am_ sorry for the trouble."

"Don't be silly," Kit tittered, "We've seen a lot worse, being maids, miss."

She was probably the most adorable creature I'd ever seen. Her skin was a rich sepia, lightening to rose pink around her cheeks. She had huge eyes, made more striking for being a clear, sapphire blue. Her hair was hidden under a piece of pale fabric that framed her face and settled on her shoulders, but I assumed that her hair was also dark. She managed to be smaller even than me, in size and height.

"Please call me Eris." I urged again, taking a seat on the stool set in front of a vanity mirror. I felt foreign in such a fancy room. "I'm a Seven, and being maids makes you Fives. So you see? You're all higher on the social ladder than I am. You shouldn't be calling _me_ by a title."

"But you're a _Three_ now, miss." Robyn reminded me with a smile, turning from the wardrobe. None of those clothes belonged to me personally, though they'd all been delivered with me in mind.

"But I doubt I'll be here for very long, so I'm still technically a Seven."

"You expect to go home soon?" Kit's eyes - impossibly - widened, in a gesture that seemed distinctly birdlike. Her head even tilted in the imitation of one.

"Well..." I bit my lip. I didn't want to reveal my plans to leave by any means necessary, for fear they'd rat me out to a Guard and have me clapped in chains for treason, or something like that. I had to be infinitely careful with who I trusted.

"Are you worried about keeping up with the other Selection girls?" Kit provided helpfully, smiling in a way that seemed sympathetic.

"Yes, exactly that." I nodded quickly. "I don't expect to stay here long, what with the competition being so tough."

"Aw!" Robyn and Kit exclaimed at the same time, rushing towards me with compassion and uttering assurances that they'd do everything in their power to help me get ahead.

Taylor didn't seem quite so convinced, and hung back a little, scrutinising me.

"We'll start getting you ready right now!" Kit was already combing through those beautiful dresses, musing aloud the pros and cons of each one. "You'll look amazing for the first breakfast, and you'll surely catch the Prince's eye."

"As wandering as it is." Taylor muttered. Robyn threw her a sharp glance.

"Actually," I said as Kit pulled a huge, puffy dress from the wardrobe, declaring it's perfection, "I'd rather wear my own clothes."

* * *

"Are you sure we can't rush you back to your room?" Robyn wrung out her hands. They weren't as covered in freckles as her face, and the skin beneath was a pale pink.

"I'll be fine."

"We still have time." Kit said nervously, "We could have you in a nice, pretty dress in seconds."

"Really, it's okay." I chuckled, trying not to be too insulted at their absolute devastation. "Thank you for your help, though."

The three of them were still looking as if they wanted to drag me back to my room, but I'd already ducked through the doors that would lead me into the Dining Hall.

The sight of the cavernous room fell into shocked me into dumb silence. The room itself could probably fit our orphanage in it three times over. Massive bay windows lined one side, pieces of art and bits of furniture were dotted elsewhere to make it a bit less empty. The long, oak table was clearly the centerpiece.

A table that was completely full.

It wasn't easy to ignore the sound of the doors clattering closed behind me, especially since the only noise there had been was the quiet clinking of cutlery on plates. Given also that I was purposefully late meant that every single seat bar one was taken, and everyone turned to stare.

Noise had them glancing over, but horror ensured all those eyes stayed trained on me as I spotted the empty seat between Lauren and Luna, half way up the table, and made my way towards it.

The rips in my blue jeans were only made more painfully obvious by the tattoos shining colourfully beneath them. Not to mention the utter loudness of my oversized mustard sweater, frayed and worn as it was.

I took my seat as boldly as I could, smiling obliviously at those closest to me. I was probably pushing my luck a bit too much when I dramatically pushed back the huge, hanging sleeves of the sweater to reach for some toast.

Still, everyone continued to stare, and the air grew thick with tension.

The sound of my knife scraping butter onto the toast might as well have been gunfire. I fought back a choked laugh, but I couldn't wrestle my grin into submission.

After a long, stifling moment, Prince Asher took a very deliberate, very loud slurp from his teacup, and turned back to reading a letter he was holding.

His dismissal of my outfit seemed to break the strange trance that had held everyone in place, and breakfast resumed. Though there was smatterings of conversation now where there hand't been before, feverish whispers that hissed over the platters of food and jugs of juice.

My grin stayed firmly fixed in place.

"You might have been arrested for that." Lauren muttered out of the corner of her mouth, dark eyes fixed on the Royals. The King and Queen were talking quietly to one another.

"Could have been sent home for it, too." I replied.

"Idiot." She turned to talk to the girl next to her, set on ignoring me, it seemed.

"Don't be angry with her," Luna whispered at my shoulder. She was chewing on mouthfuls of chocolate cereal. I'd never had cereal before, not that I could remember, anyway. "She's just worried about you getting in trouble."

I understood, really. If it was one of them walking the razor edge of a Prince's patience, I'd be snapping too, watching such stupidity unfold.

But I had a goal to achieve. My family needed me. Jax had threatened them. They needed my protection from him. As much as I'd come to like Luna and Lauren in the short time I'd known them, if going home meant that they'd be angry at me, it was the price I had to pay.

Luna wasn't angry though, and seemed happy to talk to me all throughout breakfast. In fact, no one else made an effort to talk to us, but plenty of girls leaned over to talk to Lauren.

The girl on Luna's other side went as far to lean around the both of us to get her attention, which was actually rather rude.

"I can probably think of a reason that they don't like me," I murmured, "But why hasn't anybody tried to make friends with you?"

Her round cheeks brightened to scarlet. She looked lovely today, actually, with some of her long blonde hair pinned back, wearing a knee length, off the shoulder peach dress. It looked great on her bigger frame, and fit her curves perfectly.

"They've ruled me out of the competition." She whispered, staring at her plate. She was having an awfully smaller helping than she had yesterday at the ball and on our plane.

"What?" I blinked, "Why?"

"Because..." She glanced around, whole face flushed pink with embarrassment, "They've decided that the Prince won't fall in love with a fat girl."

I was so shocked I dropped my heavy silver knife right onto my china plate. Thankfully, it didn't shatter, but it made a loud peal of noise, which brought attention round to me again.

"You're supposed to apologise for the disruption," sneered a brunette opposite.

I frowned, "Why? It didn't hit _you_."

The girl on the other side of her giggled, quickly silenced as the brunette glared.

I turned back to Luna. "You're not being serious?"

"It's been in all the magazines," She shrugged, "Articles about every single girl, her strengths and weaknesses, predictions on how far she'll go and how likely it is that the Prince will fall in love with her. Based on all the other women he's rumoured to have had affairs with, they've decided that I'm not good enough for him."

"They just don't know you, Luna." I said fiercely, "Don't you dare listen to them."

"You don't... Agree?" She peaked sideways at me.

"Agree?" I spluttered, "Are you having a laugh? If you walked down the street in Fames, people would worship at your feet. Every single person is skin and bones where I'm from. Being fat is a sign that you're wealthy enough to eat. Everyone aspires to be curvy, and the curvy women don't stay unmarried for long."

She giggled, and blushed a bright shade of cherry. "Honest?"

"Honest. In fact, my best friend Patch would probably be so besotted he'd propose to you on the spot."

Luna laughed properly this time, and the sound echoed. She apologised when people glanced over.

When breakfast was finished, I waited outside the Dining Hall. Luna asked me if I was coming on the tour scheduled with Nala right now, but I told her I had better things to do. With a laugh, she carried on with the rest of the Selection women.

Just as they turned the corner, Amber came out of the doors.

She spotted me immediately, and though I'd thought that she might not be as desperate for a friend this morning as she had been last night, I needn't have worried. She skipped right up to me, exclaiming my name as she hugged me tightly around the hips.

"Hey, meine Süße." I smoothed back her mane of strawberry blonde hair. "I wondered if you could possibly do me a very big favour?"

Her eyes widened with curiosity. "What is it?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could give me a tour? I got lost three whole times on the way down to breakfast, and I figured; who better to show me around than someone who has lived here like _forever?"_

Her whole body swelled with importance, and she was so ecstatic that she grabbed my hand right then, babbling at a million miles a minute as she dragged me off.

* * *

"Ha! Found you!"

She shrieked and scrambled out from under the fountain, trying to dart around me. Too slow, I caught her with my arms around her waist and swung her round in tight circles. The cackles that escaped her surprised me, and by the time I was dizzy enough to put her down, we were both laughing loudly.

Sprawling on the stone slabs, we rested for a moment, half hidden under the rim of the water fountain.

The sun hadn't won the fight against the clouds today. They covered the entire expanse of the sky, concealing the soft blue behind pearly white, and in some spots concrete grey.

Amber had soon gotten tired of the tour. It was all new to me, and every corridor had been exciting, but she couldn't conjure the same enthusiasm. She'd seen it all a hundred times, of course, and didn't much care for the towering ceilings, ginormous paintings, or twisting passageways.

So eventually, she'd suggested the gardens. A huge expanse of land, a couple of miles wide at least, enclosed entirely by a high, marble wall that attached itself to the back of the palace, as an extra safety precaution against rebels and the like.

I wasn't sure where we were currently, we'd passed a few stone courtyards as we'd torn through rose gardens and around high hedges and passed towering trees. I hadn't stopped to look at much, too busy chasing Amber down.

"I'm bored of hide and seek." She rolled over onto her belly to lean over me, her long hair in my face.

Brushing it out of my eyes, I smiled up at her. "What'll be then, liebling?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means 'darling', in German." I explained patiently.

"You speak German?" She blinked, I nodded. "But... You're a Seven!"

She didn't mean to insult me, and she was simply repeating what she'd been taught, but it stung just the same.

"I was taught when I was young." I told her, looking back towards the sky. It resembled freshly washed linens, draped across every inch of the sky. Some of them white, some grey, depending on their age. "I remember some of the language, but not all of it."

"Oh." She nodded, then brightened. "Could we play another game, please?"

"Of course," I smiled, "What kind of game?"

In the end, it was a chasing game, a more elaborate version of hide and seek. She was a brave knight, and I was a fearsome dragon, and it was my job to eat her and her job to kill me.

"Where is she?" I growled, prowling through a flower garden, pretending to sniff loudly at the air. "Where is that meddling knight? I want to gobble her up!"

With so many brothers and sisters, I'd long ago perfected my _monster_ voice, and I'd discovered a particular talent for finding even the most sneaky children. Thankfully, Amber wasn't so sneaky.

"Has the knight outrun me?" I wondered, stalking forward. The grass softened my footsteps. "Perhaps I'm too late. Perhaps she's rescued her Prince." I stifled a laugh as I spotted Amber, her round bottom protruding, quite obviously, from behind a small hedge. "Or perhaps..." She giggled, oblivious to me sliding closer. "She's hiding!" I exclaimed right by her head.

I frightened her so much she toppled backwards onto her bottom. Before I could worry if she'd hurt herself, she was on her feet, hollering a battle cry as she threw herself at me.

I was a little surprised as she tackled me, and the force and weight of her sent me sprawling backwards onto my own behind.

We grappled in the grass, wrestling with one another as she yelled about her knightly honour and I roared my dragon fury.

Finally, I managed to pin her under me and went to the task of tickling her sides and armpits. She was laughing a high, keening giggle which echoed loudly, and soon there was tears in her eyes as she rolled around, trying to escape.

"Do you cry mercy?" I asked her in my growl.

"Never!" She hollered, defiant.

"Well, the knight has no sword to kill me with!" I declared.

She wiggled out from under me, shoved me back, and snatched for the nearest stick. As I lunged after her, she spun, and with a final cry, she stabbed it up and into my armpit.

Howling, I dramatically threw myself to the floor, gasping my dying breaths as I declared her the victor. She threw her hands up into the air, bowing to an invisible crowd, thanking them for watching.

Movement caught my attention, and I flicked my gaze over. Only to be served an upside down image of the King, Queen and Prince Asher.

Rolling over, I saw better their expressions of absolute shock and noted the absolute primness of their clothes. Unlike me, sprawled in the grass with leaves and twigs in my hair and smudges of dirt all over my clothes.

I pushed up onto my knees and spun Amber around by her wrist, at the sight of her family, she froze. Dropping the stick, her arms and her smile, she straightened her posture to imitate theirs. She could barely look up from the floor, clearly afraid that she might be in trouble.

At her discomfort, I stood. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders seemed like the most natural thing to do, and she seemed grateful for it as her parents continued to stare.

"We've been..." I swallowed, "Playing."

"In a pigsty?" Her mother demanded, shaking off her mute surprise. The Queen looked impeccable, hair scraped back into a neat bun, an ivory white dress that pulled in at the waist and flared out from there, all the way to her calves. "Look at your dress, Amber!"

"I'm sorry, mother." She mumbled, looking at the floor and shifting guiltily.

"We had fun." I said, more firm. A child wasn't to be punished for being a child. It's not like they couldn't afford to have the dress cleaned, or buy a new one. As if she didn't already have a thousand.

"We did!" Amber said quickly, "We explored the whole gardens and found all the best hiding places, and then Eris was a _dragon_ and I slayed her!"

"Sounds... _Fun_." Asher commented, smirking behind his parents' backs.

"It was." I assured him, gaze frosty.

"The pretty Princess, were you?" King Maxon asked his daughter, trying hard not to frown.

"No," She scoffed, "I was the brave Knight!"

I smiled, smoothing back her sweaty hair. Her mother made a choked noise in the back of her throat.

"Well, it's time for you to be a Princess again," She held out her hand, "Come on, dear. Lets get you bathed and ready for lunch, shall we?"

Amber stared at her mother's hand, and then turned a trembling lip up at me.

"I can't stay with you?"

"I'll see you at dinner later, okay? And we'll play again tomorrow, right after your schooling."

"Do you promise?" How could I deny those big, sorrowful hazel eyes?

"Of course."

Satisfied, she hugged me around the hips and walked willingly towards her mother, who ushered her away. With a small, grudging nod my way, the King followed his wife and child.

Immediately, I turned away.

"Nothing to say to me?" Asher called.

"I don't want to speak to you." I threw back.

Laughing, he caught up easily. "You know, you shouldn't tell me those things. It just tempts me too much to irritate you."

"You're tempting me to punch you in the nose." I told him, frowning as I stomped away.

"Oh, don't be a grouch." He elbowed me. Whirling, I gave him my absolute best glare. He wilted for a mere moment before he grinned wide. "Scary." He snorted.

"What do you want?"

"I'm guessing Amber didn't _actually_ give you a tour?"

"So?"

"Well, you missed the one with the rest of the girls. So I was wondering if you wanted to know your way around."

"Nah, I won't be here for long anyway." Shrugging, I turned again. He caught my wrist and drew me back, his grip gentler than I'd expected it would be.

"Do you want to spend your time wondering around looking like an idiot?" he asked, blue eyes looking just a little bit sincere. "Come on, just a half hour with me could benefit you a lot."

"Is that what you say to all the girls?" I smirked.

He snorted, "They're with me for a lot longer than half an hour."

"You really are charming, aren't you?"

"Straight from a fairy tale, right?" he chuckled and shrugged when I didn't take his elbow, but I did follow him as he moved a sigh, I resigned myself to his company, if only for a little while. He was right; I didn't want to spend my time here wondering round and asking everyone for help.

As I fell in step beside him, I wondered if he was less the Prince and more a dragon in disguise.

* * *

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	10. Chapter Ten - Slaps and Vases

"So it's worth quite a lot then?"

"Yes, it was a gift in recognition of a trade agreement about thirty - Eris!"

The very ugly, very expensive vase slid dangerously towards the edge of the white table it was displayed on. Looking straight into Asher's eyes, I swiped it nonchalantly straight onto the floor where it shattered into a million pieces.

A Guard came rushing around the corner, eyes wide and panicked. He looked between the hundreds of tiny pieces, Asher's frozen body, and my proximity the mess. He must have come to the same conclusion any other person would have come to, and reached for his sidearm.

"Fetch a maid," Asher commanded, straightening and schooling his shocked features. "It was an accident. No need for a report."

"Sir." The Guard bowed at the waist and took his leave, looking somewhat grateful.

"You could have been arrested for that." Asher hissed, motioning for us to walk quickly in the opposite direction to the mess.

"Could have been sent home for it, too." I smiled at him.

He huffed a breath, but didn't deign to reply.

We'd been walking for a fair amount of time, and for the most part it had literally just been a tour of the palace. Everything I'd seen so far had been magnificent - over the top, but amazing just the same. Was there really any need for a chandelier in every room? For huge bouquets of flowers on every corner? A priceless piece of art on every single bit of wall space?

It would have been gorgeous without all of the additional decoration. The dark wooden floors, the towering windows, the white walls, the ornate ceilings, low white benches to look out of those windows, each one showing a new and unique view. The signature colours seemed to be creams, golds and whites. Simple, classy, and elegant.

The decoration on top of all that made it arrogant.

"You'll have to wear different clothing tomorrow, Eris." Asher eyed the rips in my jeans with distaste.

"How about I do what I want?"

"How about I visit you tomorrow morning and dress you _myself?_ " His grin was wicked.

"You could try, Asher." Snorting, I resumed walking.

"It's _Prince_ Asher, to you." He told me sternly as he caught up, "And I suppose some form of bodily harm would be involved,."

"Look at that! You already know me so well." I turned to look at a painting, which seemed to be a simple depiction of a pond. "How expensive is this one?"

Asher grabbed the tops of my arms and steered me away, " _Very_ expensive."

Laughing, I let him nudge me from the vicinity of the painting. We walked in silence for a moment, passed floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the gardens I'd been running through only half an hour before.

"This little date isn't so you can send me home, is it?"

"Calling it a date now, are we?" Glancing sidelong at me, he quirked up an eyebrow.

I blanched, scandalised, "I-... You- No!" I spluttered, and shoved him when he tipped his head back to laugh. "You're putting words in my mouth!"

"That's not the only thing I'd like to put in your mouth." His grin was all teeth and his eyes bright with amusement.

"You're such a prick!" I exclaimed, shoving him again.

Still chuckling, he held up his hands. "The opportunity was there."

I considered leaving; the conversation was getting me absolutely nowhere. But then again, it could lead to him sending me home. I didn't know when the opportunity to be alone with him would arrive again, so best to try my luck now.

"You didn't answer my question."

He seemed to take a calming breath, "No, Eris. I'm not sending you home."

"But _why_ -"

"Don't ask me again." His tone of voice made it very clear that he was used to being obeyed, and quickly too, without much argument or debate.

Unfortunately, I was used to the exact same thing.

"Don't you speak to me like that." I snapped right back at him.

He blinked, surprised for a mere second, before schooling his features. "This conversation is over. As is the tour."

He turned, but I was already in his way, blocking him from spinning round, herding him backwards. The backs of his thighs hit a small, intricately carved table, probably worth thousands. It didn't deserve the force with which Asher knocked it against the wall. He seemed stunned to have ended up in that position.

"We're done when I say we are." I growled. "Tell me why you're keeping me here."

"Tell me why you want to leave!"

"I don't owe you anything."

"Well then, you have my answer too." He seemed to realise suddenly that his body was a lot larger than mine, and he used every inch of it to stretch to his full height, looming down over me as he glared. With that, he breezed right past and continued on down the corridor.

I hurried after him, struggling to keep up with his long, angry strides. "It would be the easiest decision in the world! Not one person would fault you for doing it. Look at the mess I made of myself last night! Every single person in this country would agree with you."

"I don't give a shit about other people."

"Maybe that's your problem!" That certainly seemed to strike a nerve.

He whirled towards me so suddenly I almost ran smack into his broad chest. For a split second, I thought he might actually strike me, and braced myself for the blow as he ballooned with anger, face flushing with the force of it.

It never came.

Instead he said, with deadly quiet, "Don't assume you know me, Eris Black."

I stared at him, furious and wary all at once. "You're right. I don't know you. I've known you for little more than a day and already I'm certain I want absolutely nothing more to do with you."

He yanked open the buttons on his suit jacket, as if making more room for his chest, now stuffed full of irritation. "You think I want anything to do with _you_? For all your self-righteous arrogance, I didn't expect you to think I _actually_ want you around."

"So why are you keeping me here?!" I exclaimed, voice trembling with the effort not to turn it into a scream.

"Because you're a fucking charity case!" It was said with such undiluted venom that I reeled backwards.

"What did you say?" Too quietly, I murmured it. My chest was heaving, hands shaking. They'd already balled into fists.

"You think I give a damn about you?" He snorted through his nose, actually having the gall to smile. "You think I care about where you come from? I don't give a shit! But it'd certainly look fucking awful, wouldn't it? Throwing out an orphan, desperate for funds with a family who depends on her."

"So... It's all bullshit." I clarified. He didn't know me. Didn't know enough to spot the warning signs that preceded a violent explosion. "You're keeping me here to improve your public image."

"Bingo." He grinned.

I lunged at him.

There was no controlling it. I saw red, felt fire lick it's way up my spine, demanding to be unleashed, and before I could consider the possibility that punching the Prince of Illéa in the face was a bad idea, I'd already swung for him.

He dodged my fist, reeling back on nothing more than shocked instinct. No matter, because the moment he thumped to a stop on the solid wall behind him, I'd already swung again.

My palm cracked against his face so hard it sent a jolt of pain all the way up my arm and wrenched hard on my shoulder socket.

Even so, I drew my hand back again, throwing all my weight behind the blow-

He caught my wrist, wrenched me off balance, and swung me round like nothing more than a rag doll. Using his height and weight to back me into the nearest wall, he pinned me there with his stomach and chest, jamming his thighs against mine to control my wrestling body. His hands tight around my wrists, he grappled to pin them to the wall too.

I yanked my hand up and then to the side, switching directions suddenly so he didn't have time to hang on, my hand slipping free of his hold for a moment, long enough for me to slap him hard round the face again.

"Stop hitting me!"

"You son of a bitch!" I yelled, still grappling, struggling to get out from under his heavy limbs.

"You little asshole." His shoulder lifted to press against the cherry red of his cheek, which I'm sure was currently stinging quite spectacularly. "You've got quite the right hook, love."

"Get off me," I snarled in his face.

"You could have been arrested for striking me." He said it incredulously, like he was surprised I'd had the guts to test the law like that.

His face was very close to mine. His cheeks were flushed scarlet, and the sight of the outline of my palm against his chiseled cheek made me more than a little smug.

"Send me away then, and I promise never to do it again." I said through gritted teeth.

"Oh no, this is too exciting." He huffed a laugh.

"I won't stop, Asher." I warned. "I want to go home and you're going to send me there."

"Get used to disappointment." Smirking, he finally released my wrists.

I shoved him away, and we stumbled apart.

Not a second too soon, either.

A rather loud company of people appeared at the end of the hall, not bothering to lower their voices as they laughed and chatted. They were dressed finely, the men in trimmed suits and the women in elegant day dresses.

We were both breathing heavily, faces flushed scarlet and clothes distinctly disheveled. Anyone looking in on that moment might have assumed we were up to more interesting things than a literal, physical fight.

I wasn't bothered by the sight of the group, but Asher's whole demeanor seemed to shift.

For a second, he seemed to stop breathing. The colour drained from his face. His body, before heaving with anger and exhilaration, grew still with dread and - I could have sworn - terror.

He turned away from them quickly and caught my forearm in his hand, starting to draw me away as that group grew closer.

"Asher, my boy!" I peered over my shoulder to see a tall man with salt and pepper hair striding ahead of the group, eyes on Asher's back.

Asher's shoulders squared, and his jaw tightened. His hands were shaking.

I started to turn away, in no mood for the scathing eyes and backhanded compliments everyone around here seemed to use.

But Asher's hand on my wrist stopped me. Gentle now, trembling just slightly.

"Don't leave." He murmured, back still to the gaggle of people. His lips were a thin, sharp line.

"Why should I stay for you?" I hissed at him, and tried to pull my hand away.

His grip tightened, and when his eyes met mine they were full of fear.

"Please." Is all he said.

Guilt washed into my chest, but I steeled.

"Goodbye, Princeling."

* * *

"Where have you been?"

My foot was barely over the threshold of the Women's Room before a gaggle of women were in my face, snarling at me like a pack of wild animals, intent on devouring me.

Unfortunately for them, I'd learned long ago how to act like a beast.

"Don't talk to me like that." Was my immediate icy reply as I slammed the door behind me with too much force.

Rose, the one who'd snapped, recoiled at my tone. It was much more forceful than hers, and from it they seemed to glean pretty quickly that I was in no mood to play around, and certainly in no mood to be bullied.

The redhead next to her drew herself up tall, though it was decidedly unimposing, considering she was only a few inches taller. The expression on her face almost rivaled mine, however, and I could respect that.

"Where have you been, Lady Eris?" She said, and though it was a snap, the quiet menace in her voice was much more effective than Rose's outburst.

The pack leader, it seemed.

I smiled lazily, "I was with the Prince."

Her blue eyes narrowed, scrunching at the edges. "You're lying."

"Ask him." I invited with a shrug, "It was rather enjoyable. He gave me a _private_ tour."

Her eyes flared wide, and she leaned forward to demand more, but I was already breezing past. Her invitingly full mouth, painted a startling red, was left to hang open as I strolled away, headed for the back corner where Lauren and Luna sat alone.

"Private tour?" Lauren arched an eyebrow.

I slumped down into the high backed armchair they'd left free. Lauren was curled on a love seat, feet tucked under the folds of her pale, flowing dress. Luna sat in an armchair, feet propped up on a pouffe, happily eating a plate of grapes.

"Hopefully I said it pointedly enough that they'll think it was a private tour of his bedroom."

Luna giggled, "From his reputation, it's more than believable."

I was a little surprised at the dig; she seemed just as excited as the other girls to be part of the competition. She flushed under my gaze.

"It's just that... Well..." She stammered, "My maids warned me this morning, not to idolise him too much."

"They'd be damn right."

"What actually happened?" Lauren nudged my knee with her bare toes.

Hesitantly, I explained. I wasn't sure how they'd take it, especially gentle Luna.

Turned out, just as well as I'd expect anyone to take the news.

"How _awful_ of him!" Luna gasped.

"You hit the _Prince?!"_ Lauren demanded.

"Twice." I held up my fingers for emphasis.

"They're going to arrest you!"

"But... She was provoked." Luna frowned, Lauren rounded on her. "I mean! It's not okay to hit _anyone_... And I'm not saying I support your violence, Eris. It's just... He said such awful things..."

"Luna, he could have slapped Eris in the face and she'd be expected to stand there and take it."

Luna glanced round at me, for confirmation of the injustice, and when I said nothing, she gaped.

"But there are laws-!"

"Not for the Prince." I said gravely, "The King and Queen, with their history for fairness, might have done something about it. But even so, you think they'd lock their own son away?"

"I'm sure it would have been kept quiet, had he attacked her." Lauren shook her head, "And he'd have received a punishment privately. But he can do anything he wants, Luna. Don't forget that." Lauren's dark eyes flicked to me, and she leveled a long, dark finger at my chest. "Do not do something so reckless again. You could have been killed, executed right there, for smacking him, no matter what he said. Don't gamble that he's a patient man, Eris."

"So... This is goodbye?" Luna glanced at me, chin wobbling dangerously.

"What? No. He hasn't even kicked me out."

Lauren choked on the sip of tea she'd taken. The noise drew the attention of Nala, reading from a clipboard only three big windows down from the one we were sat before. She frowned, but glanced back down at her paperwork.

"Holy shitting hell."

"He didn't send you home?" Luna glanced around wildly, like the answer to this puzzle might be jotted down on one of the walls.

"I assumed you were here to say goodbye." Shaking her head, Lauren put down her teacup on the low table between her and Luna. "Honestly, truly, I was prepared to say goodbye to you just then."

When it had happened, I hadn't even considered the consequences of lunging at him. All I'd known was my own trembling fury and the sting of his utter disrespect. Now, looking back, I'm shocked he hadn't done more.

Forget restraining me, he would have had every right to strike me back. He'd have been within his rights to _kill_ me, for crying out loud. At the very least, arrest me.

For a fleeting moment, I wonder why he didn't. Then again, he should have sent me home last night for grabbing and insulting him, and he hadn't done then either.

"Maybe he does like you," Lauren said suddenly, eyeing me.

"Pardon?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"You insult his parents-" Ah yes, I'd forgotten that. "- Show up to breakfast wearing your own clothes-" And that, too. "And _then_ you hit him?"

Luna nodded slowly, "Awfully strange he hasn't done something about it."

"Perhaps the Prince _does_ have a favourite, after all." Lauren said, and smiled widely at my scowl.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Xo


	11. Chapter Eleven - Moods and Maids

I'd been sulking in my room for too long.

I'd gone to dinner Sunday evening, (doing my best to avoid Asher's eye and the faint bruise blossoming beneath it) but as of Monday morning, I was aching so bad from homesickness that I'd begged the maids to let me stay in bed. They had kindly sent a note on to the Dining Hall to announce that I wasn't feeling well, and my apologies. They phrased it much better than I would have.

Monday lunch came and went, and I did manage to drag myself out of bed to have a shower and nibble on some sandwiches Kit brought in for me, but other than that, I curled up in a chair in the living room and didn't move.

Robyn offered to take me to the gardens, having heard I'd explored them yesterday with Amber. I refused. Kit brought me baked cookies that made my stomach clench, but I didn't touch them. How could I take advantage of such wonderful things when my family had nothing at home?

It would be like spitting on the lot of them.

So I settled into my armchair, prepared to sulk.

There was no way that Prince Asher felt anything at all for me. Lauren and Luna were wrong. I hadn't told them the full story of why he was keeping me here. From the force of his angry outburst, I could believe he absolutely detested me and was only keeping me in the palace for the sake of his public image.

It was smart, really. I could respect him for being so conniving. He was using me for his own personal gain and the criminal in me could admire that. I'd done it many times myself, it would be hypocritical to hate him.

But hate him I did.

Tucking my knees up to my chest, I stared out of the open balcony doors, savouring the cool air on my skin, and mapped the path the sun took across the sky. A near cloudless day, but the breeze did have a bite to it. I didn't mind the chill, though; it kept my mind sharp as I plotted quietly, furiously.

There had to be something I could do that would gain me enough negative attention that Asher would send me home.

I wished I'd asked to see some of the footage from the previous Selections, but if there were any scandals drastic enough for the girl to be kicked out, it had been kept quiet in the years that had followed.

A few little incidents here and there just weren't going to cut it. Clearly, Asher was more than capable of handling an irritation. I had to up my game.

This was going to be harder than I originally thought.

There wasn't enough pressure on him yet to send me home. Sure, some of the magazines had deemed me unpopular, and the stylists hadn't liked me, and nor had any of the palace officials that had come to prep me in Fames. But that wasn't enough.

Pressure had to come from somewhere else. Somewhere closer to home.

If his parents wanted me gone, I wasn't sure how long, exactly, the Prince could hold out against their disapproval.

"Eris?" Kit asked meekly, shuffling into my view. Startled, my head snapped round to face her. "Sorry!"

"It's all right." I waved away her apologies, "I was thinking."

"Brooding, more like." Taylor immediately grumbled, appearing too.

Where they'd been for the hours I'd been sat here, I didn't know. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd been in the room the whole time, I'd been that engrossed in my scheming.

"Be kind, Taylor." Robyn replied, carrying a tray of tea and setting it down at the table beside my armchair.

Taylor seemed inclined to retort, the scar at her mouth whitening with irritation, but Kit elbowed her.

"You don't like me, do you?"

The three of them stilled for a moment, apprehensive. Kit and Robyn looked at me fearfully, like I might start hollering about mean maids and crying about backhanded comments. Taylor drew herself upwards, jerking her chin up like she was preparing for a fight.

It made me like her a lot more.

"It's okay." I smiled, and Taylor deflated suddenly, frowning. "Not many do. I tend to annoy people."

"Don't say that!" Kit immediately exclaimed, waving off my comment.

"I don't mind." I laughed, and wrapped my arms around my knees. "It's better that way. I tend to attract... Trouble."

"I _told_ you." Taylor mumbled to Robyn.

Flicking my eyebrows up, I said boldly, "If you don't like me, that's fair enough. Make all the sarky comments you want, but at least be honest. Don't do it behind my back like a coward."

Taylor's eyes narrowed at the challenge, and the glasses made her look all the more severe. Finally, she gave a curt nod and turned away, moving into my bedroom opposite. Probably to find something to clean.

Kit, staring after Taylor, knelt at the small table by my armchair to prepare tea.

"Not many people can brave her." She murmured, eyes downcast, though there was a significant upwards tilt to her full lips. "She's a good friend, if you prove yourself to be worth her time."

"Harsh way to live."

"Indeed," Kit looked up, those green eyes so vivid they distracted me. "I think she's just guarded, but she'll respect you all the more for standing up to her."

"I'm not one to be bullied." I took the tea she offered, thanking her for it.

"She isn't a bully. She just... Keeps to herself, and keeps up her walls to ward people off. If you manage to get past those, she'd die for you."

"Why the bad opinion of me so quickly?"

Robyn took the couch opposite, keeping her voice low. "You have to understand that we heard terrible things about the last Selection. How awful some of the girls were. A lot of them were entitled, competitive, and were willing to throw anyone to the dogs to win the Prince. We get enough hassle from the people who live here already, and the visitors who stay think we're scum too."

"With the added pressure of looking after 35 awful women?" Kit shook her head, "We weren't looking forward to it, and expected the worse."

"Do you think you got it?" I ran a finger along the rim of my teacup, too worried about their answer to look each of them in the face.

There was a decidedly long pause before Kit answered softly, "I think you're a mighty fine woman, La- Eris."

I glanced down at her, confusion rolling off me in waves.

Robyn laughed at my expression, "We saw what you did for those children at the airport. Then you had the nerve to refuse the stylists, who also treat us like trash, and then you were kind to little Amber."

"She's a harmless thing." Kit shook her head, palming back the swathes of fabric covering her hair. It was a dark blue scarf today. "And so sad and lonely. You were the only Selection woman to even look at her."

For a moment, my throat closed over with emotion. For these women to think highly of me for such small acts meant the world. These women were more my equals than any one of the Selection women, all Fives or above. These maids were Sixes, and knew the hardships of a life at the bottom of the food chain.

"I think Taylor just keeps expecting a switch to flip," Kit shrugged her tiny shoulders. "We've already heard bad things from other maids, and I think she's trying her hardest not to get her hopes up about you."

"I respect that." Nodding, I glanced through to my bedroom, aware that Taylor was clattering around extra noisily, probably to drown out the conversation.

Only then did I realise the two of them, though sat in comfortable positions, had not made themselves a drink. "You don't want any tea?"

The two glanced at each other, shocked.

"We... Only serve the tea." Robyn said slowly.

I snorted. "Have a cup of tea. Don't make me sit here like an entitled prick."

That startled a laugh right out of the both of them, and without further protest, Kit set about making more. She called delicately into the other room to see if Taylor wanted one, but her sharp _no_ conveyed quite well how much she disapproved.

"Can I tell you a secret?" I asked after they'd settled and were sipping away. Kit was sat cross-legged on the floor, the teacup comically big in her small hands, and Robyn sat on the couch, a little more relaxed than before.

"Of course." They said instantly.

Should I tell them? I was in desperate need of help. By the sounds of things, they knew a lot about the previous Selections. Not only that, maids knew the palace like it was an extension of themselves. They could teach me all the small intricacies of the place, and how best to exploit them.

"You can trust us." Robyn said, noting my hesitation. She said it with such absolute conviction that I couldn't help but believe her.

Sometimes, you've just got to trust your gut.

"I want to go home."

Something in my bedroom hit the floor with such a bang that I almost leapt out of my seat. A moment later, Taylor was stood in the doorway, hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed dangerously. Her black dress and dark hair, pulled back painfully tight on her head, made her look even more imposing.

"Explain."

I almost bristled at her tone, but the gentle nudge that Kit gave my knee softened my snappy reply. With a calming breath, I started to explain.

First about Fames and the squalor we lived in. The state of our city. The conditions in which the majority of citizens worked. The utter control that the Gruks had over us.

"What's a Gruk?" Kit interjected.

"It's a dirty word for a Guard," Taylor informed her sharply, "Quiet."

I continued. Told them about my family. The orphanage. What often happened to the babies dropped off on the doorstep. The exact number of the patches of flowers in our back garden, the spots too small to be for decoration. I told them about the mines, and then about the Pits. About fighting there.

Next was Jax, and his story, and our history. Mania, addled with drugs. The utter evil that Jax liked to wallow in. Then of course, the Selection. Being forced to sign up, never dreaming of being picked. My excuse not to come, and Elizabeth's threat to sell me out. Jax's promise to take the children and the orphanage.

Finally, Asher and his insistence that I had to stay.

Silence, dense as the darkness now pressing in against the balcony doors. All three looking at me. Kit with a hand over her mouth, horrified. She'd shed tears throughout the story, but she'd seemed to run out of them now. Robyn, mulling over my words as she seemed to watch the story play out in the top corner of the room, where she was staring intently.

But Taylor, she was skeptical, I could see it in her pursed lips, in the angle of her dark eyebrows. Her hands were fists on the apex of her hips.

"How are we to know you're telling the truth?"

"Taylor!" Robyn snapped.

"A sob story is a perfect way to get attention, especially in a competition such as this one." She snapped right back.

Pursing my lips, I nodded. Fair enough, I supposed.

So I handed Kit my teacup, stood slowly, turned around, undid the length of rope around my waist holding my robe together, and let it drop to my hips.

I wasn't wearing a shirt or a bra, had only thrown on some shorts and the robe to sit in and sulk. So when I tugged my unbound hair over my shoulder, my bare skin was exposed to them immediately.

In the low gloom of the doused lights, the dozens of raised, bumpy scars threw shadows across the pale skin of my back. The deeper ones were still an angry, vivid purple. The less severe slashes had already faded to silver. Anyone looking at the expanse of wasted skin could see the severity with which I'd been punished, and know that I would carry that punishment for the rest of my life.

Kit dropped the teacups in her hands.

" _Guards_ did that to you?" Robyn demanded.

I pulled the robe on again and sat back down, merely nodding.

Taylor bit her lip and looked away, "I'm sorry."

My huff acknowledged the apology.

"No wonder you want to leave." Kit shook her head, already sweeping up the pieces of broken china. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Eris."

"It's no big deal. They don't hurt often anymore. They ache sometimes when there's a storm."

"Really?" Kit demanded.

"It's the pressure in the air." I chuckled at her curiosity.

Robyn rolled her eyes and stood up suddenly. "Get dressed."

"Pardon?"

She smiled at me softly, "I think we all might need a drink."

They said just a pair of trousers and a shirt would be okay for where were going, but didn't actually inform me of our destination.

The Guard outside the room quirked up his eyebrows as we emerged, but didn't actually say anything as we started off down the corridor. I had no doubt he'd eventually let slip that I'd crept out of my room with my maids in tow. Hopefully I'd be in trouble for that in the morning.

Almost silent as we traveled, I had a chance to observe the palace at nighttime. Less Guards, for sure, but the corridors weren't empty of them. No other residents though. The four of us were the only civilians wandering, save for a maid or two carrying laundry or tea trays.

Finally, we descended beneath the ground level of the palace by way of two huge wooden doors that immediately led to a set of stone stairs leading into the earth. By the time we got to the bottom of those stairs, I realised that this part of the palace probably wasn't meant to be seen by guests.

Everything turned from polished marble to flat grey stone. Entirely devoid of decoration or adornment, it seemed this part of the palace was less for show and more for practicality. In place of windows there were bright lights running along the middle of ceilings. No carpets; the floors were a simple dark wood.

They led me down the main corridor and through the labyrinth of complicated connecting halls. The scenery didn't change much, and I wondered how they made their way around with no markers at all.

"You get used to it," Kit informed me happily, spotting my wide-eyed amazement.

"Seems a little..."

"Drab?" Robyn grinned.

"Seems like they're trying to tell you something." I told her, and she laughed.

"If by _something_ you mean that we're utterly beneath them in every way shape and form, then yes, they've already let us know."

"I thought things were better now?"

"Oh, they are." Kit joined our elbows together cheerfully, patting my hand as she did so. I blinked, but appreciated the casual kindness. "Our wages are an awfully lot better since King Maxon took the throne. There's also a lot more stability in this job now, as in we can only be dismissed by the King or Queen, whereas before everyone with a title thought they could do with us as they pleased."

Robyn nodded gravely at my disgust, "It was like that for a very long time. But King Maxon has put in place proper measures to keep us safe. He listens to us, too. If we go to him with a problem, he'll listen."

Surprised, I tucked this snippet of information away for the next time I was angry at the Royals.

Finally, they led me down a set of low stairs leading to wide, double doors, flung open. Voices drifted up to greet us.

"You don't know when he'll be back?" A male voice asked, almost gruff.

"No, but he's gathering a lot of support overseas." A woman answered.

"Good. The quicker Em is back in the palace the quicker this farce can end-"

"Robyn!"

The voices stopped immediately as the four of us hit the bottom step, and found ourselves in a huge, open kitchen. Three people were sat over a couple of open beers on a wooden table off to the side, and one of them stood as we entered.

She was of medium height, with a wrinkled, round face and a floor length dress and apron. From what I could tell, she was a larger lady underneath all those swishing, heavy skirts. Despite the clear irritation of her male companions, she stood to greet us with open arms.

"Madam Darrow." Kit giggled, hugging the woman who dwarfed her in height and weight.

"Kit, poor baby, thought I'd told you to have second helpings at every meal?" Madam Darrow pinched at her tiny waist, "Still no meat on those bones."

Slapping her hands away, Kit bustled further into the kitchen, obviously knowing the space like it was a second home. Taylor moved off with her, silent.

"What's her problem?" Madam Darrow frowned at Taylor's back. She soon caught sight of me, lurking behind Robyn. "Ah, I see her problem." She chuckled deeply.

"Mammy," Robyn snagged my elbow and dragged me out from behind her, shoving me under Madam Darrow's squat nose. "This here is Eris. Eris Black, mammy."

Her brown eyes, the exact same shade as Robyn's in fact, flared wide. Her mouth fell open to reveal small, square teeth. I could see the resemblance between the two of them, actually, in the eyes, and the shapes of their mouths, and the wisps of hair escaping from the bun on her head might have once been blonde, but were now greying naturally.

"Mother, what's she doing here, lass?" Madam Darrow demanded of her... Daughter? Granddaughter? I'd guess the latter. "Not that I'm not happy to meet you, deary." She said to me immediately, "But you'll be in mighty fine trouble wandering around with us lot."

Robyn opened her mouth, but I cut over her. "I'm sorry for intruding, ma'am. But... It's suffocating up there, for someone like me."

She eyed the snarls of orange hair and the holes in the knees of my jeans. Pursing her lips, she nodded slowly.

"Aye, I'd imagine it would be." Leaning forward, she ushered me under her arm and drew me further into the room, an official welcome. "Let's make you a cup of hot coca."

"Actually, mammy," Robyn winced, "I promised something stronger."

* * *

Madam Darrow was the head of the kitchen staff, or that was her main title, though her duties seemed to be an endless list of things. She wasn't the main chef, but she oversaw all the meals and feasts and occasions that required food. She assigned tasks to maids, butlers, maintenance staff and groundskeepers. Everything ran like clockwork, and it was mostly down to the fact that she'd been here for the majority of her life. Nothing in the palace happened without her knowing about it.

I wasn't surprised that she knew me right away.

The two men in her company were chefs, and eyed me warily, disapproving of my presence. No matter, because Madam Darrow hustled me into a seat at the table, her on one side and Kit on my other.

"Enjoying the palace?" One of the chefs, the older of the two, asked. Prying.

"Not much." I swigged on the beer that Robyn had handed over. I was used to stronger liquor, considering all alcohol was banned in Fames, so nobody wasted time with the weaker stuff.

"Big difference?" The younger asked.

"From an orphanage?" I flicked up an eyebrow, "Yeah."

Madam Darrow laughed. "Sharp tongue, a quality I can admire." She must have noticed the faces I was trying to hide at the taste of the beer, because she stood up to take a bottle from one of the wooden cupboards that lined the walls.

She poured me a generous glass, and this drink went down a lot smoother. The burn faded quickly after my first gulp, and the pang it sent through my lungs was well received. I'd needed the haze of alcohol for days.

Catching on quicker than the chefs that I didn't much want to talk about my experience with the Selection so far, Madam Darrow ordered a card game.

I was unfamiliar with the game, which involved a host of different animals and a rating of how dangerous they were, but Kit paired up with me, and she was good at it.

The kitchen, even in the late evening, seemed to be a constant hive of activity, because people arrived every once in a while, and seeing that we were drinking, either joined quickly or left after completing their tasks.

The long wooden table filled swiftly, conversation easy between everyone who arrived. Despite the hundreds of people who worked behind the scenes, everyone knew each other, or at the very least were friendly.

I received a lot of curious glances, but nobody seemed inclined to kick me out of their private space, especially considering I was sat at Madam Darrow's right hand. A strategic position, I quickly figured out.

By the time our loud game had come to a close - Robyn and Madam Darrow destroying the rest of us quite spectacularly - there was music playing in the background and the bottle of liquor I'd been drinking from was already empty, having been passed around a dozen hands.

Madam Darrow gave a roll of her eyes and an incline of her head to signal her permission for more bottles to be opened.

It wasn't a party, but it certainly got louder as more people arrived to investigate the noise, and then stayed to chat with friends milling about. Everyone seemed happy to sit on the huge, rough stone island in the middle of the room, or lean against walls, or simply stand in an open space talking and laughing.

People were actually eager to talk to me, and not just to grill me on the Selection either. Some wanted to know about Dakota, claiming to have family there. Some wanted to say how impressed they were with my treatment of those children at the airport, or how brave I was to wear my own clothes around the palace.

A gaggle of young women drew me into their circle to warn me good-naturedly against the Prince, all humming and eyeing each other, communicating silently like only women can. Whispering about the scandals he'd been at the center of in the past, the ones made public and the ones kept quiet.

Some soldiers stopped me to announce that if the Prince proved to be lacking, they'd be more than happy to entertain me.

"What makes you think you're my type?" I asked the soldier who'd spoken. "I prefer grown up men."

His friends burst into laughter, while he clapped a scandalised hand to his chest. "I'm your age!"

"I never would have been able to tell." Slipping out from under his heavy arm, I gave him a parting grin and turned to leave.

"You'll break my heart, woman!"

"I'm sure your mother could kiss that better for you." I called over the din. The rest of the group started hooting and slapping him on the back, and he laughed with good humour.

Locating where the drinks were, I searched for a spare glass to fill.

"Here," I whipped around, and found myself almost nose to nose with a Guard. "Thought you'd need something strong after that exchange, Eris."

"I- You called me Eris."

"Isn't that your name?" He blinked at me, murky green eyes twinkling with humour.

"Well, I just-..." I shook my head, "Everyone calls me Lady Eris."

"I tried to," He nodded, handing me the half full glass of amber liquid. "But you threatened to break my nose if I used that title." Staring, he chuckled. "You don't remember me at all, do you?"

"No, I'm sorry." Flushing with embarrassment, I quickly chucked back some of the drink.

"I'm not surprised, you were rip roaring drunk." He shrugged, and took up a spot by my side, leaning against the kitchen island. He sipped at his beer.

At his words, yet more heat rushed up into my face. "Stars above, you were the one that carried me to bed."

"Yes. It's Rolan. I did tell you my name, but..." His grin was growing wider with every passing shade of my flaming face. "Don't worry though, it was rather entertaining."

"You're lying."

"No! Really, you're rather funny when you're pissed."

"You should see me when I'm sober." I grinned, and he grinned at my poor attempt of a joke. "I didn't... Strip for you, or anything?"

"As exciting as that would have been," His hip bumped mine gently, "No. I did take off your shoes though."

"If I knew you were so handsome, I'd have tried to pull myself together."

From the surprised and startled glances, the laughter that burst out of him was not a common noise to be heard.

I wasn't joking. Rolan _was_ handsome.

Average in height at about 5'8", he made up for it in bulk. His shoulders were wide and his thighs thick under the black material of his formal trousers. His white dress shirt had its sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and the pale forearms on display were thick with muscle. I'd bet that I'd find his torso riddled with it too. His face was severe, all sharp lines and dark shadows, but his soft mouth spoke of quiet, hard earned smiles. His hair was reddish brown, thick and messy.

"Well, if you need to be carried back to your room this evening, let me know." He shoved off the island and moved to leave.

"Does that offer stand even if I'm still sober?" I asked quickly, eyebrows rising.

Rolan laughed again, smiled wide, and tapped his beer bottle against the rim of my glass. " _Especially_ if you're still sober."

That grin was full of mischief, and his eyes told me exactly what would happen if we returned to my room together tonight.

* * *

The week passed in quiet misery.

Well, quiet was probably the wrong word, considering I made a lot of effort to cause as much uproar as possible.

Rumour got around fast that I'd attended a party in the Staff Wing, and while Asher sent me a strongly worded note delivered by a giggling maid, he didn't attempt to reprimand me in person.

In fact, I got notes delivered to me on the Monday (for the party), the Tuesday (for turning up to dinner with Amber covered head to toe in glitter), the Thursday (for throwing water into the face of an Education Minister), and the Friday (for walking around the palace in a pair of bright pink fluffy socks) by the end of the week, I had a small pile of letters on a desk from Asher.

The notes ranged from quiet scorn to outright exasperation. The note about the Education Minister was very serious and demanded an apology. The one about the glitter made perfectly clear what a fool he thought I was, and an embarrassment too. The one from Friday read simply;

 _Pink fluffy socks?_

I replied to him, asking the maid who delivered the notes to wait as I scribbled answers on any piece of paper I could find, stuffing it back into the envelope his own notes arrived in.

Most of my replies were something along the lines of _'I'll do what I want, Schreave.'_ He never sent notes back, so I didn't even know if mine made it to him, but it felt good to know I was obviously irritating him from afar.

How the other Royals took my antics, I wasn't sure.

The Queen seemed to look at me through tightly pinched eyes whenever she caught sight of me, and those eyes squeezed tighter together as the week went on, and inched tighter still if she spotted me with Amber. By the end of the week, her eyes were almost entirely squeezed closed, and she had to transfer her dislike of me to her mouth, drawing her lips into a sharp, thin line.

Kit and Robyn brought news that almost everyone else didn't like me either; the Nobles who milled about, the Ministers and Advisers, the camera crews and stylists. A number of formal complaints had been delivered to the Royals and to Nala (our official handler).

Though, I certainly could have guessed at this myself even without the maids to provide the helpful gossip; I received a multitude of backhanded compliments and outright insults while strolling around the palace and the gardens. The majority of the people who'd made complaints about me made sure they repeated them to my face at their first opportunity.

I didn't mind their hostility, welcomed it, even.

I spent my days chatting in the Women's Room with Luna and Lauren, or exploring the palace and gardens with Amber. The girls would sometimes venture out to stroll through the mazes or the rose gardens, but weren't as enthusiastic to partake in our more lively games of hurtling after each other playing chase or our messier arts and crafts (hence the glitter incident).

The evenings I spent in the company of the maids, or in the comfort of the kitchen with Madam Darrow and any other staff who happened to join us.

Despite the enormity of the staff, the same people seemed to loiter around the kitchen, drinking casually, chatting and generally just socialising at the end of a long working day.

Nobody seemed to mind my presence, but I had a feeling Madam Darrow had more to do with that than my charming personality.

Rolan, the Guard from the party, seemed to spend many of his evenings in the kitchen, and before long Robyn had a habit of wiggling her eyebrows over his shoulder whenever she caught the two of us talking. I didn't mind all that much; he was handsome in a roguish, imposing kind of way, and had a quick wit that might have offended someone with a softer heart.

"I'm just saying," Robyn elbowed me for what seemed like the tenth time on the Friday evening, "He likes you."

"He's just being friendly." I rolled my eyes at her, fetching an apple from a nearby counter. We'd just arrived, and already I noticed there was more people than usual about. More soldiers, certainly, who'd already begun drinking.

"I wouldn't bet on that," Madam Darrow pinched my hip, and I yelped in fright as she arrived from nowhere. Laughing, she carried on, "That Rolan is a sour lad, and keeps himself to himself. Or that _was_ the case..."

"I'm starting to think the Darrow family has far too much interest in other people's business." I dodged the smack that Madam Darrow sent my way, and laughing, went to join Kit in a game of cards.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Xo**


	12. Chapter Twelve - The Report

"She's been more trouble?"

Peter was chewing on a plate of bacon, and self-righteously buttering some toast. How he managed to make the motion seem smug, Asher would never know. But he was certainly looking very happy with himself.

"No." Asher lied, shrugging. He was nursing a strong cup of coffee, and he grimaced at the taste as he swallowed it back. He shouldn't have taken that trip into the city last night, the hangover just wasn't worth it.

"Liar." Peter accused around a mouthful of food. "My father has already told me. She was caught on camera stumbling back to her rooms drunk and singing just last night. A soldier had to be sent to escort her safely."

He sighed. He'd received the same report this morning, and it had been General Ledger and not uncle Aspen who'd reported it. There was a firm difference in those two people, despite them inhabiting the same body. He'd made his note brief and sharp, letting Asher know the severity of the situation. Aspen then noted that a woman with so little etiquette was not _entirely_ suited to the role of a Princess.

A quick decision. An obvious choice. Uncle Aspen seemed to think so. As did his mother after the bad influence Eris had had on Amber this past week. As did his father, after the incident with the Education Minister. As did near everyone else who happened to hear the name Eris Black and couldn't help but grimace swiftly.

"I'm still considering ratting you out to my father."

"You wouldn't rat, Peter."

"I wouldn't have if you'd dismissed her." He snapped back immediately, "You said last Sunday you were going to send her home. What changed?"

He'd asked the question too many times. Asher rubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the thin layer of oil that was pasted to his skin. He needed a shower, a proper one. Peter had showed up before Asher had even had a chance to dress properly, announcing that breakfast was already on its way and that it was a lovely morning.

Asher didn't bother to reply to his friend's question. It was none of Pete's business, anyhow.

"You just wait." Peter carried on prattling, "She'll only get worse. I bet my life on that. The next incident will be bad, and it will carry on progressing, and eventually the damage done will be entirely too great. Send her home now, while you can, and-"

"Peter!" He didn't know the voice that tore out of him, nor did he know when he'd made the decision to stand up. "I _know_ what I'm doing!"

His friend's eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open just a fraction, too surprised at Asher's outburst to reply to the declaration.

But as he stood, his new vantage point had given him a view out of the window and into the grounds beyond. A squadron of soldiers were currently working out together, not too far from the windows, two neat lines of four all in sync as one of them called out commands.

What made him pause was the flash of bright colour, stood right in the middle of the group. He'd know that particular shade of orange anywhere, mostly because he'd avoided it like the plague this last week.

Asher was at the window in a flash, staring in absolute horror as Eris Black trained, sweaty and red faced, keeping pace with the men and women around her. She was significantly smaller in height and weight than the rest of them, but it didn't seem to be much of a hindrance.

Peter, drawn to the window as well, gaped openly when he too spotted the source of Asher's astonishment.

At that moment, the group fell motionless and broke apart, heading for discarded water bottles in the grass. Eris fell into step with them easily. One of the men reached out and ruffled her hair, and she shoved him away with what seemed to be a laugh.

Asher couldn't believe it. She wasn't even permitted to go into the public gardens without an escort, let alone going into the grounds beyond them in the company of the soldiers. Going beyond the wall of the gardens was forbidden to the Selection girls, deemed too dangerous considering it was backed by forests.

For her to be out on the grounds was bad enough. But to be messing around with a bunch of _soldiers..._ They weren't even trained in dealing with members of the palace. They were only employed to patrol the grounds, and never were they allowed inside unless it was an emergency.

It would have been deplorable to be seen with a group of palace Guards, but even they were respected members of society. Soldiers, on the other hand, were not quite.

"I _told_ you." Peter grumbled.

"She's in _so_ much trouble."

* * *

"Are you sure that's for the best?" His father was frowning at him.

Asher hated that stare, the quiet confirmation that his father didn't really trust his judgement at all. At least he bothered to _ask_ the question; His mother was not always so subtle in letting him know that he was wrong.

It was all for the best; He knew that. His future was intertwined with the future of Illéa, and his parents wanted the best for both of those things, but sometimes they forgot that those things were separate entities. When they looked at Asher, they didn't always see the young man stood there.

"Mei says so." That was Asher's usual tactic; blame someone else. "She said it'll get some attention if it goes badly."

Mei had decided that Lady Eris, of all people, was going to speak _live_ on the Report after learning he'd only been on dates with girls who were Twos. She said Eris would add some _diversity_.

"Lady Eris hasn't been trained to talk live." Maxon rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. The shadows around them looked darker than usual. He'd need a touch up from a stylist before they went on air.

"I thought they all went to a class yesterday?"

"Nala reported yesterday evening that Lady Eris did not attend."

Of fucking _course_ she didn't, Asher sighed inwardly. He would just have to speak to her. Politely, just to warn her that she had to smile and be kind and not break anything.

Some of the Selection girls were already milling about the hall, stylists and maids in tow, fixing their hair and dresses and practicing their smiles in the windows. Eris wasn't here yet, hopefully, she'd refuse to turn up at all.

"Are you going to talk this evening?" Maxon's eyebrows rose hopefully. Asher was barely looking at him.

"No. Just the girls."

"All of them will go up?"

"No. I think Mei will call them up randomly. There's too many to all go up in one evening."

"So... How many are there as of today?"

Asher glanced back at him, too distracted to realise until that moment that his father was judging him closely. He drew himself up tall under his father's scathing gaze.

"Twenty."

"So few?"

"Twelve were sent home on the first evening. Two of them I dismissed this week, and one of them asked to go home."

"Why?"

Asher shrugged, "I didn't ask. I think she already had someone."

Something flickered in Maxon's dark eyes, but Asher didn't want to know what it was, mostly because it would probably turn into another one of the other thousand life lessons that Asher was supposed to remember every day.

"But Eris Black gets to stay?" He said it casually enough, not even looking at his son, but immediately Asher's full attention was on him. "Seems a little odd... She doesn't seem like the kind of girl who'd want to stay here."

"She hasn't asked to leave." Asher lied casually, shrugging.

"Hasn't expressed a want to stay, either." Maxon eyebrows were inching upwards, probing at Asher's defense. "She's made it perfectly clear that she's a trouble-maker."

"I would think you'd consider her perfect for me, then." He said through clenched teeth. He was watching the stairs leading down into the hall, scanning for that flash of particular orange.

"Opposites tend to attract, where relationships are concerned." His father smiled quietly.

"Doesn't seem to be the case for you and mother."

"We differ in a lot of ways." Shrugging, he took a sip of his drink. Water. Not even a drop of alcohol. Asher envied him. "I'm just saying, son... I think you'd do finding a woman more... Gentle."

"I wouldn't consider marrying Eris Black even if the moon ordered me to do it." He snapped finally, eyes flashing as he turned a glare on his father. "And I'd appreciate it if everyone dropped the damn matter."

Maxon frowned, mouth opening to warn his son against taking that attitude with him, but at that exact moment Asher caught sight of the exact person he was looking for.

"Excuse me." He said sharply, and left before his father could call him back.

He made his way through the crowd, occasionally stopping to chat to the Selection women already gathered. Just to make it seem as if he wasn't making a beeline for Eris, but he certainly kept one eye on her as he made his way through the room.

By the time he was through speaking with a few of the girls, Eris was already engaged in a conversation with a group of other women. He hadn't actually spoken to any of the three of them individually yet, but at least this was a small opportunity.

He didn't know the blonde girls name, but he had certainly noticed the black girl, Lauren if he remembered rightly, who'd caught his eye a few times with flashes of her arched neck, wide smile and long legs. The red dress she wore now was skin tight and flared out from the knees, a perfect example of the mermaid style.

The blonde girl looked lovely in a floor length corset bodice dress, short sleeved and sequined heavily. Tiffany blue was a bold choice, and he admired that. Though something that defined her waist may have looked more flattering; he'd have to mention it to her stylists or maids. The third girl was a brunette, of medium height, who'd gone safe with her style; entirely forgettable.

He didn't actually have a view of Eris until he was right beside her, and by that point it was too late to actually glance at her dress, though the sight of her hair straightened and smoothed back over her head shocked him enough that he almost didn't announce himself.

"Ladies," Asher managed to get out smoothly.

The four of them looked round, and immediately the blonde and the brunette both went berry red, even under their make-up. Asher smiled, self-assured once more.

"Prince Asher." Three of them dipped into respectful, well-practiced curtsies.

Eris Black, however, did not.

She glanced over him with a scathing eye, twisted her face into a grimace - all the more effective with her lips painted ruby red and dark eye makeup - and turned dismissively away.

"How're you all feeling tonight?" He asked, addressing only the three _polite_ girls.

"A little nervous, I'm super worried about messing up on national television." The blonde gave a small giggle. Asher had dismissed her initially, finding her rather plain, but she was actually a little cute.

"Forgive me, but could you all just remind me of your names? There's an awful lot of you, you see, and I'm terrible with things like that."

"Big surprise." Eris rolled her eyes. "Don't suppose you've ever kept a woman around long enough to know her name?"

His teeth clamped shut on a retort. Though he did cut her a piercing glare, which she missed completely, instead glancing around the room like she had somewhere better to be.

"I'm Lauren," said the black girl, and she smiled widely for him.

"Luna," the blonde said it breathlessly.

"Sarah." A plain name for a plain girl.

He smiled at each of them in turn, and then lifted his eyebrows at Eris. They all knew perfectly well that he knew her name, but he stared at her expectantly anyway.

Smiling sweetly, Eris said; "Natasha."

Asher's lips tightened in irritation. "Liar."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"You all look lovely." He looked to the other three, excluding Eris in the compliment. "And don't worry; Mei has already decided who she's calling on, and it'll mostly be girls that I've already been on dates with, just so they have plenty to talk about."

Luna breathed a sigh of relief.

"You mean I got dressed up for nothing?" Lauren asked, chuckling. "I could have turned up in jeans and a shirt and nobody would have noticed."

"Better to be noticed for looking ravishing, which you've managed." Eris gagged at his compliment, and he fought down the urge to elbow her in the ribs. "Actually Lauren, I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date this week with me?"

"I'd love to." Her answering smile was winning. Now here was a girl with class.

"Great. I'm planning on seeing a lot more of you all in the coming days, and you'll all get your turn eventually, but with my schedule..."

"Perfectly understandable." Luna nodded.

"Okay, well enjoy your evenings ladies." He nodded at each one of them, and they all dipped into more pristine curtsies. Eris, again, did not. "Could I speak with you a moment, Eris?"

"Actually, I'm rather busy."

"Now." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her, forcefully, away from the group. With a hand on the small of her back, he steered her through the crowds and into a small alcove on the perimeter of the room.

It wouldn't hide them completely, but best not to let people think he was whisking her away into a private room. Better to look like they were just having a quiet conversation, and given her very public behaviour this week, nobody would be surprised that he looked a little stern. Regardless, it was a little shadowed in here, light quite not reaching into the hollow, so nobody glanced in their direction often.

He still had her skinny wrist in his grasp, but despite the fact his fingers encircled it entirely, he was aware she was stronger than she looked.

A strength she called on to yank her limb out of his grip. She glared up at him, lip curling.

"What do you want, Princeling?"

His eyes swept her frame, and he was surprised to find that she didn't look half bad. Turns out Eris Black could have style... When she was being dressed by people who actually liked her.

The dress she wore was pitch black, great swathes of sheer material falling to the floor, and the long sleeves were tightly fitted, highlighting her shapely arms, toned with muscle. Every inch of her was covered, but in some places slashes of the underneath black silk had been removed, leaving only the sheer black material on top. Strips of her stomach, forearms, thighs and calves were visible beneath the fabric. In some places, the dress sparkled in the correct lighting.

Her hair had been straightened and swept back over her head, held in place with pins or spray or perhaps sheer force of will, but it didn't look stiff at all. Her hair, without it's fuzzy, ridiculous curls, fell all the way to the small of her back.

The make up tied in with the dress, dark, smoky eye shadow, and slashes of black kohl leading out from the corner of her eyes. A dusting of silver powder on the sharp edges of her cheekbones, her eyebrows filled in to perfect arches, and her full lips painted a dramatic cherry red.

Many of the girls had tried to work certain angles in order to stand out. The sweeter girls had chosen to wear floral or pink fabrics. The sexier girls had worn red, or fitted dresses to better show off their assets. Everyone had decided to take this opportunity to better sell themselves.

Of course, half the job was convincing Asher to fall in love with you, the other half of the job was convincing everyone _else_ to fall in love with you too.

Eris, on the other hand, had chosen a completely different tactic. Clearly, she wasn't pandering to the masses. She didn't look sweet or sexy or lovable. She looked fierce, bordering on frightening. In fact, if he was being honest, she looked... Dangerous.

She was still waiting for an answer from him.

"I just wanted to tell you how ravishing you look." He gave her a smirk that didn't exactly reach his eyes.

"Liar." She snorted, and pushed away from him to lean against the opposite wall of the alcove. They stood staring at each other, judging the atmosphere between them. It wasn't too static with hatred, so Asher took a breath to broach the topic.

"Mei has decided you'll speak live tonight, Eris."

Her eyes flared wide before she schooled her expression. "That seems like a very silly idea, even to me."

"For once, we agree." He gave her a strained, cold smile. She didn't return it. "You're the only Selection girl I've been on a date with who isn't a Two."

"It wasn't a date."

"Nobody else shares that opinion."

"Then tell her I've refused to do it. I'm camera shy, tell everyone." She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest.

He gave her a sneer, "Not surprised about that, given the usual state of you."

"Good one," She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Just blame it on me. Tell her if she calls my name I won't even stand. Better for everyone if she just bypasses me altogether."

"She's convinced that if you embarrass yourself then it'll be good for ratings. It'll give the papers something to print, anyway. So you'd be doing exactly what she wants if you refuse to stand."

Eris blew out a harsh breath. He stared at her as she stared out at everyone else.

"Well..." She started to smile, and Asher braced himself as a pulse of fear shot through his sternum, almost winding him.

"Don't." He said immediately, taking a step forward.

Her gaze flashed to his, and that smile grew, wickedness pooling in the harsh black of her eyes.

"I was just going to say that..." Her head tilted, trying to put a damper on her sly grin, which didn't work at all. "Speaking publicly could be... _Fun_."

"Do you know how much trouble you could get in?" He demanded.

"I won't call for the dismantling of the fucking monarchy." She chuckled, like that was a pleasant idea anyway. "But a few choice comments..."

"Like what?!"

"Oh, I _dunno_. I'll have to think about it. But the people would find it super interesting to know the reason you've only officially asked Two's on dates this week, wouldn't you think?"

His insides turned cold with dread. "You can't."

"Maybe I'll talk about all the finery here. How it's _astounding_ that wealth like this exists when little old me comes from a place where families can't even put food on the table."

"Eris."

"Maybe I'll talk about how the staff are treated. How the soldiers are second rate citizens to the Nobles wandering around. Maybe I'll sniffle and wonder why on Earth everyone is so damn _mean_ to me. Maybe I'll look into a camera and wish, with all my little, poor heart, to just go home."

"I fucking forbid it." He snarled, surging towards her.

She ducked out of the way, twisting until she was stood behind him. He whirled to face her, but didn't lunge again. He was breath heavy with panic now, and she was breathing heavy with excitement. They hovered on the verge of violence, both of them itching to lash out. She was smirking at him, he was snarling at her.

"What're you gonna do about it, Princeling?" She laughed, "Send me home?"

"You say anything to damage the reputation of this palace, and I warn you now, it would be grounds for an execution."

She stilled, pursed her lips, grinned again. "All right, so no acts of outright rebellion or treason. I could still slander _you_."

Eris was right, and Asher thought quickly. "True, but what about your family? You think you're doing them a favour by letting them know you're fucking miserable here?"

"Don't you _dare_ talk about them!" She took an angry, threatening step forward, and Asher braced for the thunderous punch he'd already received once, no, twice before.

It didn't come though. She took a deep breath and took a measured step away.

"Surprised you have control over that fiery temper." He mused.

"You're certainly testing it." She bit back. Another deep breath, and her voice had stopped shaking. "Promise to send me home. Promise, Asher Schreave, and I'll kiss your ass for the entirety of the interview."

He should just lie. He couldn't send her home. Couldn't, because he'd already made a different promise, but Eris knew nothing about that. But if he promised to send her home, let her perform for the cameras, and then he could just reveal that she wasn't actually going anywhere.

But... That was so unbelievably cruel he couldn't even believe he was considering it. His father certainly would never act like that. Anyone respectable wouldn't be so damn conniving. Plus, he wasn't sure he'd actually survive that encounter with Eris Black.

"I can't." He told her, looking away. "I can't make that promise."

"Then you've sealed your own fate." She shrugged, and moved to leave the alcove, dismissing him.

He seized her arm, grip tight as he yanked her back and pressed her tight to the smooth stone where the shadows were most dense.

"You'll regret it, Eris."

"Oh yeah?" She sneered.

He had a feeling he wasn't exactly pinning her in place, she was more letting herself be held there. He didn't doubt she could shake free of him if she wanted.

"You suffer being here enough anyway." He said, and braced his own heart against the absolute revulsion he felt for himself as he told her; "I'll make your life hell, love. You like your maids? I'll throw them out on the fucking street. Those trips to the staff wing and out into the grounds? I'll assign Guards with specific orders to drag you kicking and screaming to your room if needs be. And I'll order Amber's nannies to keep her away from you completely, with my mother's support, of course."

Eris's eyes had been growing steadily wider as he spoke down to her. Every punishment he promised seemed to hit her like a blow, but the threat of losing Amber seemed to horrify her so completely that she slumped in his embrace and suddenly needed the wall to keep her upright.

He couldn't stop there though, and tightened his hand around her arm to get her attention. When she barely responded, he cupped her chin and jerked her head upwards so she was forced to meet his gaze.

"You're going to smile, and be calm, and you're not going to break a damn thing. You glare once, you lose something. You slate me once, you lose something. I won't send you home, but the satisfaction of making you miserable will taste like poured honey."

"You're a fucking bastard." She gasped, and why she was suddenly surprised by that, he wasn't exactly sure.

"Yeah, I am." He shrugged.

She jerked her chin out of his palm and her arm out of his fingers, and shoved him hard in the chest. He stumbled back but caught himself, and straightened his suit jacket and tie.

"I'll say whatever I want." She breathed. But there was no force behind those words, not anymore.

He could see her thinking, see the thoughts turning in that stubborn head of hers, weighing the loyalty to her family against the loyalty to the new friends she had. He braced himself again for the cruelty spilling out of him like poison from a wound.

"Oh, you don't care about any of those people?" He adjusted his cuff links, straightening his sleeves. Asher looked up at her, hardened his gaze and clenched his jaw. "That's fine. I suppose I'll just withhold the letters from your family then."

She almost buckled. He'd done it, he realised. He'd found that nerve and he hadn't just prodded it, he'd basically shoved a _knife_ into it. The pain that surged into her eyes made him want to vomit, and he had to look away when he noticed the tears glisten brightly.

He moved to leave, satisfied he'd done his job, done it well, done what was necessary for his family and his throne and his country. Asher could at least give her the dignity of breaking apart in private.

Her voice, quiet with fury, shaking with hatred, cracking right there at the end with absolute horror, stopped him short.

"You're a despicable human being, Asher Schreave."

"Then I suppose we have more in common than we realised, Eris Black."

* * *

The Report passed in a blur of bundled nerves for Asher Schreave.

Never mind that his gaze kept flicking, involuntarily, to the side of the stage with tiered seating, bright lights trained onto the Selection girls so every single one of them could be seen clearly.

One particular girl stood out, of course. In a sea of brown and blonde, with only a few flecks of different shades, one bright colour stood out among all the rest. Eris's vibrant orange caught the eye, as did the stony expression on her face. Even if he hadn't spent that time with her last Sunday, she would have been called up anyway. She was just too hard to miss.

A curse and a blessing, Asher assumed.

The usual reports were made. Crime statistics. Foreign affairs. Economic analysis. Headline news. Those reports were significantly shorter than they would have been any other week.

Tonight, the live studio audience, made up of Nobles, Ministers and invited guests, were buzzing with the anticipation of the Selection news.

Mei Baxton replaced the usual host of the Report to excited applause. Finally, it was time to start the interviews.

Asher barely listened.

There was a camera trained on him at all times, capturing his reactions and broadcasting them to the entire country. He didn't even want to know what his face looked like. Probably frozen in terror, no doubt. He made an effort to smile and listen, react as naturally as he could, but he could tell without having to look that he wasn't doing a very good job.

A girl left the stage, and he couldn't remember her name. Mei was doing her best to sprinkle the girls he'd been on dates with among the girls he hadn't, but even he could see the pattern of rich, entitled girls that he'd taken out. He made a panic induced decision to be a little less bias.

"Lady Eris! If you could possibly come and join me." Mei smiled and gestured to the tiered seats.

Asher's felt the name go through him like a punch.

The spotlight brightened on her and the effect was instantaneous. It looked like her head had caught fire, such was the blaze of colour. The harsh light brought out strands of gold, and it had the same effect on the sparkling dust highlighting her face and the sequins scattered over her dress.

She smiled slowly, and stood at her own pace, descending the stairs gracefully. She walked across the studio like it had been constructed for the sole purpose of her inhabiting it. Her shoulders were drawn back, her spine straight as an arrow. Her jaw cut an impressive line as she tilted her chin up.

Mei reached to shake her hand, and Eris shook firmly before taking her seat, smiling briefly at her host.

"Lady Eris!" Mei greeted warmly.

"Actually, I'd prefer just Eris." She inclined her head, respectful.

Asher's heart beat so wildly in his chest he wondered if the microphone pinned to his lapel would detect it.

"Okay, Just Eris." Mei laughed, and some audience members joined in. "You've certainly stood out since arriving here. I've actually heard a lot about you."

"All good things, I'm sure." Eris smiled, and it was all teeth. The gesture made it quite clear that they both knew the exact opposite to be true.

Asher fought to cover his eyes.

Mei, completely thrown by Eris, glanced a little nervously down at her cue cards. "You've been here for a week now, and I'd just like to ask you the same question all the other girls received; what's your favourite thing about the palace so far?"

The other girls had started gushing immediately. Eager to please, eager to have this time in the spotlight. Again, they'd tried hard to work their individual angles.

Eris... Took an uncomfortably long time to answer. Even went so far as to purse her lips and glance up at the ceiling, like she was struggling. She was making it obvious that she didn't have many good things to say.

Asher wanted to holler at her for the insolence, but he also couldn't help being a just a little impressed. He'd warned her against saying anything, and she was following that order. But she was also making it perfectly clear, without words, her point of view. She'd found a loophole, and she was exploiting it.

Clever, really, Asher had to admit.

"I spend a lot of time with Amber." Everyone seemed to release a breath as she finally spoke, "Princess Amber, that is." She chuckled, and glanced to the Princess sat in the lowest throne at their mother's side. Amber seemed positively thrilled to have been mentioned at all, and grinned wildly. "She's my best friend here."

"Is that so?" Mei seemed confounded with the answer.

"Yeah. She reminds me a lot of my little sisters back home." That was all the answer she was going to give, pursing her lips to say she was done with that particular topic.

Asher hoped Mei would not press much about home.

"Talking of home," Asher sighed inwardly, "You're the first ever Seven to be picked for the Selection. Must be _very_ exciting."

"Thrilling." Her smile was small and her voice absolutely monotone.

He couldn't help it; he laughed. Quietly, to himself, but he couldn't help the smirk that bloomed on his face. She was an absolute horror, but fuck she was funny. At least she was owning this disgrace.

Mei seemed absolutely thrown with the tone of this interview; completely dumbfounded with the mystery that was Eris Black. If she'd been nervous, Mei could have handled it. Angry and defiant, Mei could have handled it. But there was no handling the quiet confidence of Eris, the absolute control she had on herself, the draw that made her both dangerous and appealing.

Asher found himself wondering just how this competition would have gone had Eris Black entered it actually trying to compete.

"Clearly." Mei coughed awkwardly. The audience were starting to shift. "This has all been a huge change for you particularly, more so than your fellow Selection girls. Must be strange, having been a Seven in Dakota and now you're a Three in Angeles."

"Strange, certainly." Her smile was stretched thin.

"Can you talk about some of those differences?" Mei was just trying to get a rise, being petty because Eris was embarrassing her, but Eris seemed to take the question in stride.

She delivered a blow that had a ripple effect throughout the whole of the studio, and probably the whole of the country.

"You want me to talk about the differences between an orphanage and a palace?" One condescending eyebrow flicked upwards, "I'd have thought they were obvious."

Maxon, sat in the tallest throne on Asher's left, seemed to inflate with astonishment and, yes, rage. Asher blew out a breath of exasperation.

Eris sat, oblivious to the reactions around her, waiting patiently for Mei's next question. Mei who was, unbelievably, stumbling. She glanced at the King, and then the Queen, to see if they wanted the interview to continue. Asher was too frightened to glance over and see his parents reactions, but Mei started to carry on.

The best decision; they couldn't be seen to be buckling under the scrutiny of one girl. A Seven, no less.

"I hear," Mei smiled wide, trying to turn the whole thing around. "That you're one of the lucky few this week, having been on a date with the Prince. How was that?"

Eris squinted, searching for a response. She settled on; "Thrilling."

Asher had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud this time, but a few of the Selection girls giggled.

"Can you tell us what you did?"

"He took me on a tour of the palace."

"Ah, a _private_ tour." A wink for the audiences, and they laughed. At Asher's expense, certainly, and Eris's too, no doubt. "How did you find the Prince?"

She could have said any number of horrendous things, could have delivered a blow that would have sent her straight home or straight to jail. She could have ruined him right then and there.

But Eris Black was unpredictable, and clearly, Mei had irritated her. So she turned her head to glance over at Asher, a half smile on her face that stank of mischief.

Their gazes brushed, and he had absolutely no control over his own face as his eyebrows flicked up, inviting her to speak, daring her to say whatever she wanted to say. The space between them crackled with tension.

"Challenging." She broke the stare to say the word to Mei, who didn't seem to know if she should laugh or cry.

"Prince Asher?" She called, out of what appeared to be clear panic. "Have anything to say to that assessment?"

He deliberated, heart hammering as all gazes turned to him, as his father held him pinned under intense scrutiny, and his mother leaned round his father to stare, outraged.

But then she was glancing over and smirking, daring him to deliver a blow. Those black eyes provoking him until his blood was thrumming in his veins, from fury or hilarity or hysteria, he wasn't sure.

He found himself grinning right back, "I find that rich coming from Eris Black, Mei."

Eris seemed thrilled with his response, and laughed quietly to herself as she looked back to Mei.

"On that _very_ interesting note, I thank you _Just_ Eris, for taking the time to speak with me!" she practically jumped up out of her seat, but Eris took her time. They said their goodbyes, Eris offered a smile to the cameras, and she took her seat in the stands once again.

Everyone in the room seemed to breathe a heavy sigh of relief once she was out of the spotlight.

As the next girl was called, Asher completely missing her name, he met the heavy gaze he could feel settled on him.

Her dark eyes were narrowed, and she gave him a small smirk that said, _I warned you, Princeling._

Asher felt that his answering smirk sent his reply quite adequately; _You're in trouble, love._

* * *

Thanks for reading! Comment and vote if you enjoyed! Xoxo


	13. Chapter Thirteen - Fountains and Jackets

"Lady Eris."

The voice stopped me cold. It wasn't Asher's voice, though I'd expected him to make a beeline straight for me after the Report. No, Asher I could have handled.

I turned, only to find a very different Royal staring me down. She wore a pristine, polished dress of soft cream with long, fitted sleeves. It had green vines and bright flowers embroidered into the massive, flared skirt.

The Queen of Illéa gave me a tight lipped smile as I met her gaze.

"Could I speak with you for a moment?"

What was I to do other than obey?

I'd been in the middle of getting my ass chewed out. Lauren had dragged me into a far corner of the studio as soon as the Report had ended. Luna had hurried along behind us. Everyone else was loitering, casual as they sipped at drinks. Celebrating the success of the first Selection Report.

Luna reached for my hand as I started to leave, trailing after the Queen. I didn't look back, but gave her a squeeze as I left, more for her benefit than my own.

No doubt the both of them assumed that they wouldn't be seeing me again.

That thought saddened me. Still, I also couldn't help the thrill that rippled through me at the idea of the Queen sending me right home.

Of course, she might also send me straight to fucking prison.

We left the studio, and then we left the palace all together. She set a brisk pace, as did the Guards keeping up with us. One on either side, following sharply behind me. I wondered if they followed her everywhere or if she'd ordered their protection because of me.

We left through a set of double glass doors and descended into the gardens. The night was brisk, and the air chilly. The sting of the breeze through my thin dress left me on alert, at the very least.

She seemed to have a destination in mind as she strode with purpose down the stone paths. Passed flower gardens and tree groves and courtyards of stone.

I watched the sky as I followed he, aimless. The glint of her silver crown in my peripheral vision was enough to lead me.

The sun hadn't yet set. Our way was lit by streaks of deep purple and molten gold. The thick clouds turning to royal blue as the sun slipped away. Only the brightest of the stars had managed to push through the mess of colour.

Finally, the Queen came to rest in a courtyard. Enclosed on all sides by tall hedges, it was blocked entirely from view of anybody passing. A stone water fountain dominated the space, standing higher than the surrounding hedges. The spraying water was the only sound in the quiet space, the peace soon disturbed by the clicking of our shoes.

The Guards didn't enter the courtyard at all. They instead took up a vigil out of sight, guarding the only opening, I assumed. Far enough away for us to pretend we had privacy. Close enough, however, to let me know that they could be there in an instant if I thought about stepping out of line.

There was a wide circle of stone benches around the perimeter of the courtyard. The Queen moved to occupy one furthest from the entrance. She smoothed out her dress, sat primly, back straight, head high, watching me. The huge folds of her skirt offered no room for me on the bench, especially since she'd made a point to sit right in the middle of it.

A dangerous game, it seemed.

Not like with Asher, where it was an obvious kind of conflict, full of fire and brazen arrogance.

No, this would be different. This had to be careful, quiet, a subtle sort of pull and push, a tipping of the scale one way or the other. There would be no shouting, no lashing out. This was about small gestures, careful comments and clever maneuvers.

The power was already with her. Her very status held the game in her favour. There was no resisting. Obvious resisting wouldn't get a rise out of her like it did Asher. I would have to move with the tide, and hope to swim rather than sink.

She'd made her first move by sitting in the middle of the bench; politeness would dictate that I sit beside her. The little space available would mean I'd either have to ask to sit, or squeeze into the edges she provided me with.

Of course, she'd overestimated me. Her mistake for thinking I was _polite._

I turned and walked to the fountain. Took a seat on it's wide stone ledge. Leaned over and dipped my fingers into the cool water. Completely content as I reached down and twirled some of the underwater plants. I didn't bother to glance over at the Queen.

"Lady Eris." Her voice was almost stern, but not quite there.

"Hmm?" I looked over, smiling.

"Won't you join me?" She gestured to the bench she sat on.

"I'm quite happy here, Your Majesty." Nothing but respect in my voice. I turned back to the water and spotted the small fish darting around beneath the glassy surface.

I heard her sigh. Her skirts ruffled with the motion of her standing, and then her heels clacked as she moved to stand before me. She didn't choose to sit.

I laughed inwardly. Still didn't look at her.

"Do you know why I asked to speak with you, Lady Eris?"

"Not exactly, Your Majesty."

"Could you hazard a guess?"

"It could be a number of things, Your Majesty."

"And therein lies the problem, don't you think?"

Finally, I looked up at her. She stood staring out at the receding light, hands folded in front of her, jaw set. Her pale skin shone inky blue, and the faded red of her hair was darkening to brown as the sun swept the light away.

I didn't reply, but stared at her expectantly.

"I rarely lose my temper, Lady Eris. Never have much of a reason to. I would consider myself to be a measured individual. My temper was decidedly more explosive in my youth." This personal information surprised me a little, but I didn't comment. "Can you imagine my surprise when I watched you tonight, on national television nonetheless, and felt nothing short of pure, undiluted rage?"

My insides turned cold with dread. She still wasn't looking at me.

"I have to admit, that's a little surprising." I mused. Her shoulders tightened. "Considering all the other incidents, that interview seemed subtle in comparison."

"Those other incidents weren't broadcast to all of Illéa." She spat. Finally, it looked like I was getting under her skin. A tomato red blush had started to leech upwards from her chest. Her cheeks had turned splotchy with the colour.

"I didn't say anything outlandish."

"No, I noticed you were careful not to actually say anything out loud. But you made it quite clear your position on the palace and my son."

"So you're angry at me for not saying anything?"

"I'm angry at you-!" She made an effort to quiet her voice. "I'm angry at you for behaving in such a scandalous, horrendous and provocative manner."

"The interview lasted for little more than a minute." I sighed, looking back to the water.

"A minute that hundreds of thousands of people were watching!" She surged forward, and the motion made me glance up again. She stopped shy of her flared skirts touching my knees. "Have you no _shame?"_

"Me?" I turned a smile up at her, "Plenty. For that interview? None."

"Why are you here, Lady Eris?" She demanded, hands balling at her sides.

I should tell her. Tell her that I wanted to go home. That I'd asked Asher to send me home the moment I'd gotten here. She'd be more than happy to overrule his decision and have me on a flight back to Dakota this evening. I wanted to, even opened my mouth to, and then she cut over me.

"Let me guess," She seethed, "For the money, is that it? We offer you a chance that every girl in the country hoped for. We took you in, a _Seven_ , and an orphan at that. You sit there in the clothes we put on your back! Sending home the money we're generous enough to give you! And yet you have the audacity to throw it back in our faces with every breath you breathe!"

The words hit me like a slap. Not because they struck home, not because they were true, but because I was so fucking infuriated by them.

"How dare you," I said, with a cold calm. Her eyes flared wide as I stood with deliberate slowness. "How dare you stand there and condescend me. Everything I have I worked for, and fought for, and earned with blood and sweat. You sit in your marble palace in your pretty dresses and have the audacity to speak to me as if I'm not the one that hasn't struggled for everything I have in this world!"

She reeled backwards. The last words were shouts, and I had no doubt the Guards would have heard. Would be relaying those words on to everyone that would listen as soon as they were off duty.

The Queen and I stood staring at each other. Her chest was heaving, her eyes narrowed, her whole face scarlet with fury.

"You're insolent, and rude, and downright hateful." She breathed, enraged. "I made a promise at the beginning of this Selection. I swore that I would welcome you girls with open arms. Into my home and into my heart. I wanted to make the process as easy as I could for every one of you."

"How noble." I barked.

For a moment, I thought she'd slap me. But she looked away and took a breath, and after a moment she shook her head. She was done with me.

"Tonight, I'll demand my son send you home, Lady Eris." She said it to startle me, she didn't expect me to cut her a smirk.

"By all means."

"If he refuses, I'll press the matter. I'll speak with my husband too, and if he agrees that you're not to stay, then we shall overrule my son and send you home." The blue of her gaze was chilly as a winter's night as she looked me over, "In the meantime, you are not to seek out my daughter. I don't want you saying goodbye. She'll do much better without your influence."

Queen America turned on her heel and strolled away.

* * *

"Eris?"

The sharp tone had me glancing up in fright, only to find Rolan stood in the opening to the courtyard.

"Fuck, Eris." He rushed towards me, dropping down onto his haunches so we were face to face, "What the hell are you doing out here, huh? You're practically blue!"

His big hands went to my shoulders, checking to make sure I was alright. At the feel of my chilly skin beneath the thin layers of my dress, he let loose a string of colourful curses.

Rolan yanked me up and rubbed at the length of my arms roughly, trying to generate heat through friction. After a moment of that he thought better of it, pulling back to shrug out of his jacket and drape it over my shoulders. It was comically large on my frame.

"I've been looking everywhere for you." He told me, breathless. "Dinner came and went. There's rumours going round that you shouted at the bloody Queen. Then Princess Amber threw a fit in the middle of dinner, shouting and crying. Or so I heard, something about not being able to be your friend anymore."

At that, a choked, heavy sob broke out of me. He seemed startled, pulling back to stare, his murky green eyes heavy with genuine worry. I wondered if he'd been drinking. He was usually stiff as a board until he'd had a few beers, but his eyes were clear, and his hands steady on my shoulders.

"What happened?"

"I don't get to say goodbye to Amber." My voice broke.

"You're leaving?"

"I don't know. She said she'd demand my dismissal to Asher. But if he says no, then she'll go to the King. If he says I'm to go, then they'll overrule Asher."

"Those bastards." He growled. I tried to laugh, but it came out weak and pathetic.

He looked at me, swept my frame from head to toe, and took a long moment to gauge the strength of my gaze. When he was done with his assessment, he sighed heavily and wrapped his thick arms around me.

If I wasn't so surprised, I would have pulled away.

The warmth of him seeped into my shivering body. His hands slid inside the jacket to wrap around my waist. I let him tuck me into his chest, pushing my cheek into his shoulder, breathing him in, sinking into his body. The solid bulk of him was more comforting than I thought it could be.

He held me like I was made of glass. Like if he squeezed too tight, I'd disappear into a cloud of angry orange smoke. One hand cradled my head, the other rubbed comforting circles into my waist.

I couldn't shed any tears, not right now. Not with him. I'd leave that until later. When I was on my own and my door locked, with the covers pulled up over my head so nobody could hear my sobbing.

"Let's sit down." He moved us to one of the stone benches, but didn't let me go. Wrapping me in one of his arms instead. I slipped my arms into the sleeves of his jacket, trying to catch the last embers of warmth he'd left behind inside it.

I settled deep into his side as we sat, my head on his shoulder and his arm curled around my back, holding me close.

"Do you want to go?"

"Yes." I told him, voice firm. "But not like this. Not without telling Amber goodbye, or telling her she can write to me, and call if she wants. I just... She's so lonely already, Rolan."

"I can't believe they'd do that to her." He shook his head, the low light of the moon caught strands of bronze in his dark, reddish hair. "To you."

"It's what they are." I shrugged, "I'm not surprised."

"Will Asher send you home if his mother pressures him?"

"Who knows? He's got his own agenda entirely. He doesn't give a shit about anything anyone says."

"I hate how he treats you, Eris." Rolan turned his head to stare at me, sharp jaw clenched into a thin, cutting edge. "I hate that he doesn't see how fucking brilliant you are."

My eyes flicked up to meet his, finding them feverish with intent. "Rolan..."

"I'm serious."

A quiet chuckle, "I know you are. But... You could get into so much trouble. It's best to not even think of things like that."

He smiled, huffing an exasperated breath. "That's out of my hands, I'm afraid, and it's your fault."

"You're ridiculous." I rolled my eyes.

"No." His other hand caught my chin, tilted my face up until our gazes were angled just right. His fingers on my waist were drawing me steadily closer, harder against him. "I'm not. I can't believe that asshole doesn't even see what a prize he has. He's not even aware of what he's managed to find. I'd give you the damn world on a platter, Eris."

"I don't think that's strictly legal." I murmured. I tried to look away, trying to break the tension, trying to distract that calm, lethal focus in his eyes.

"Good think I'm not a Prince then, isn't it?" He grinned.

There was no stopping him, no protesting. Though I'm not sure I would have bothered to protest, if he'd given me a choice in the decision. I knew he would try, but I didn't expect the movement to be so blindingly fierce.

In the time it took me to glance at him, he'd lowered his head and pressed his lips to mine.

Before I could make a noise, his hand clutched the back of my head, trapping our faces together. His lips moved on mine, insistent, hard, aggressive with intensity. His breath was hot on my mouth, and his hands were hot on my skin.

I moved to brace my hand on his arm, the one reaching to grip my face. I almost tugged it down. Almost curled my fingers around his bicep ready to push him away. But as he felt the pressure of my fingers on his skin, he released a breathless gasp into my mouth.

He hadn't expected me to react positively. He'd expected me to shove him away, or lash out in violence. At the quiet, soft touch of my hand on his arm, he'd assumed I'd accepted his embrace. The sound that escaped him, one of shock and hope, left me completely powerless.

All at once, I was kissing him back.

My lips were no longer crushed by his, my body no longer bent uncomfortably backward with the force of him.

Instead, I wrapped an arm around his wide shoulders and used the leverage to pull me tight against his side. My lips were aggressive, just as demanding as we fought for the scorching air between us. His lips parted, and our tongues met enthusiastically. He made a noise, a rough, guttural growl that had my stomach tightening in response.

It wasn't enough. I needed more.

With a low moan that was more a signal of my surrender than a sign of my arousal, I unfolded myself from his side. He grabbed at a fistful of my skirts, protesting the distance I'd put between us. He opened his mouth to vocalise that protest, but I'd already put my fingers against his lips to cut off the words.

Biting my lip around a smirk, I hiked my skirts up to my knees and moved to straddle him. His mouth dropped open. His green eyes became almost entirely black as his pupils swelled wide. His big hands, rough at the fingertips, dragged up my calves, over the backs of my knees and settled on my thighs as I sat in his lap.

My knees were at his hips. My ass on his thighs. My arms around his neck, my fingers in his hair, my breasts pressed tight against his hard chest.

It was the touch I'd been desperately craving this last week. The comfort never offered by anyone in the palace.

But Rolan was offering it now. Willingly, gladly, and like the selfish prick I was, I took everything he offered.

My eyes still on his as he tipped his chin up to look at me, I lowered my mouth. Parted my lips. The smile he gave was soft as he accepted the invitation. That fire grew quickly, the position we were tangled in serving only to lend kindling to that fire. We were breathing heavily into each other's mouths, my fingers fisted in his hair.

I ground myself down onto him.

The movement, that friction, wrenched a strangled groan right out his throat. His hands tightened on my thighs. His hips jerked up, almost involuntarily, to prolong the sensation that friction offered.

Happily, I did that work without complaint. Rocking myself against him, begrudging the few thin layers of clothing between us. My toes curled as his hands inched up my thighs, over my ass, to grip my hips. Pressing me down hard against the spot that was growing firm beneath my rough, desperate movements.

He wrenched his lips away, and just when I thought he'd come to his senses, he flattened his mouth against my chest. My breath left me in a rush as his tongue traveled the length of my throat. His teeth then grazed the spot below my ear.

I don't know how long we continued, how long we rutted against one another on that stone bench. Pulling, yanking, tugging on each other. Kissing desperately in the cold.

If it hadn't been for the sharp sting of his teeth on my skin, I might have allowed things to go further. As it were, he nipped on the swell of my breast, exposed by my dress. The shudder that washed over me was both exhilaration and arousal, but fear followed.

Fear that if we were caught, that small prick of pain would be the least of my worries. The blotchy purple marks I'd left on Rolan's throat would not be the only souvenir he'd receive for this.

With a choked gasp, I yanked my head away from him. Rolan's lips left my jaw and he didn't move to put them back there. His eyes were wide and half concealed with the choppy locks of reddish hair I'd yanked out of it's pristine style. My face was stuck in a grimace. Almost apologetic, but more fearful. He seemed to understand the conclusion I'd come to.

With a huff, he pressed his forehead to the hollow beneath my throat, his cheek cushioned against my chest. His hands, no longer bruising my hips, rubbed comfortingly at my back as he wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise." He shook his head, "One of us had to come to our senses eventually."

"It's not that I don't want to." I was still a little breathless.

"It's that we'll probably both be executed if we're found like this."

"Exactly." He pulled away and smiled up at me softly, if a little rueful. I brushed the tresses stuck to his forehead with sweat into a more respectable style. I failed miserably.

Pressing my lips to his briefly, gently, I hoped I managed to convey the apology better. He seemed happier, anyway.

"In order for us to move," He grinned, "You're going to have to get off me."

"Oh."

Blushing violently, I scrambled off his lap and smoothed down the folds of my dress. It was wrinkled from being hiked up around my thighs. With a chuckle, he stood too and tried his best to straighten his own attire. Nothing to be done about his ruined hair though.

Thankfully, the maids had used some sort of advanced spray for my make up. It wouldn't smudge or fade until I used a certain type of cream to get it off. So my lipstick wasn't all over his mouth, giving us away. Though there was no miracle spray to get rid of our flushed cheeks and guilty expressions.

"Perhaps..." Rolan glanced down at me and offered a half smile. "We can continue another time."

"It's a date." I grinned. Laughing, he looked me over once more, checking for any giveaway signs, and nodded his approval. With that, we left the stone courtyard. He offered me his arm, and I took it.

The further we got from that place, the more fearful I became. How astoundingly stupid of me! To pull a stunt like that right out in the open! Forget the consequences to me, they would be dire enough, but for Rolan too!

Perhaps they'd have arrested us, but more likely than not I'd be sent home in shame, which is exactly where I needed to be. But it would ruin Rolan's career, he'd be thrown out of the palace, his job, maybe even thrown in jail for treason. For what? A quick rut in a garden with a complete stranger.

I would tell him, immediately, that this couldn't happen again. That the risk was too great.

But we were already at the foot of the white steps that led up to the glass doors of the palace. They were flung open like a great, gaping maw. That absolute blackness of the corridor frightened me for a moment.

What if we'd already been seen? What if they were waiting to arrest us? What if there'd been cameras, or a Guard had followed us out? News could have already spread.

But no one was waiting in the corridor when we stepped into it.

"Rolan-"

"Keep it." He murmured.

I turned a frown on him, but he was looking at the jacket I was wearing. Of course, it was his. He offered a small smile. Now that he'd drawn attention to it, I wanted desperately to give it back. It was a sure-fire way of letting everyone know that our relationship was more intimate than allowed.

"You could get into trouble." I was already moving to shrug it off.

"Don't." He stopped me with hands on my wrists. "If anyone sees, they won't mention it. If they spread rumours, it'll only be me catering to the needs of a Selection girl."

From his hard gaze and raised eyebrows, it was clear he wouldn't let me take it off. He offered his elbow again and I relented. Letting him guide me through the dark corridors and up towards my room.

"It'll only be one more damaging rumour for me." I rolled my eyes, "It isn't like I could get into more trouble."

"Please don't tempt fate." He muttered, shaking his head.

I glanced at him sideways, "I wouldn't take you as a superstitious man."

"I wasn't one before I met you."

I laughed. He smiled down at me, eyes softening. The stern grooves of his forehead smoothed out in reaction to the sound.

We rounded a corner, and I was still smiling. Grinning not just for the joke, but for the light humour he offered when I clearly needed it. Despite his cold exterior, Rolan knew that tonight had been hard. He'd given me the comfort without asking if I required it. Put everything on the line to give me that support.

Rolan looked away from me, and that hard mask fell into place with a vengeance. His eyebrows flattened, his lips thinned, his eyes narrowed in irritation. His hands clenched into fists.

My head jerked round, fearing his reaction, only for my stomach to plummet in fear.

The Prince of Illéa was waiting outside my door.

* * *

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	14. Chapter Fourteen - Fires and Alarms

"That Guard seems to have taken quite a liking to you."

I left Asher to close the door to my room. I hadn't even been sure he'd follow me in once I'd ducked inside. But he had, not seeming to worry much about either one of our reputations. There hadn't been anyone in the corridor, but it didn't mean someone hadn't seen us. There were cameras everywhere.

There was already a fire lighting the room, which the maids must have built up for me before they'd left for supper. I was grateful for the warmth emanating from the dancing flames as Asher's icy gaze settled on me.

"His name is Rolan." I told him.

His eyes tightened with annoyance.

Hiding a grin, I sat on the couch so I could undo the straps on my shoes. Grateful to be finally free, I kicked them away.

I sensed rather than saw him move closer, leaning against the back of the armchair that faced me.

"I don't care." He announced.

"Then why'd you say anything?"

His teeth clenched, and he spoke his next words through them. "You've caused an awful lot of trouble, love."

"I've heard."

"Rolan, no doubt." He muttered, and he clearly didn't want any confirmation of the fact. "My mother spoke to you?"

"She did."

"Not nicely, I assume."

"Not exactly."

We stared at each other. He wanted to yell, I could see it in his quivering fists. Could see it in the way he bit his lip and tapped his foot. I wanted to yell right back, especially for the way he'd let his sister be treated, and for the way he'd treated me.

But it had been a long night. I didn't have the energy to scream at him, nor for another brawl.

Before he could open his mouth, I stood.

He watched me, wary, as I moved towards him, bare feet slapping quietly on the wooden floor.

"Unzip me?" I asked, keeping my voice casual. I didn't want to sound too suggestive, lest he get the wrong idea. But neither did I want to sound too threatening, in case he took it as a test.

Still, his expression darkened. I could see the struggle on his face as he thought through my request. _Was_ I being suggestive? Was it an invitation? Or was it a simple power play? Was it politer to say no, or to undo my dress? His eyebrows crinkled with frustration, unsure.

By then I was already in front of him, having circled around the armchair to stand at his elbow. He turned with me, so we were stood face to face by the time I'd reached him. With a twitch of my eyebrows, I turned to allow him access to the zip.

I sensed him step closer to me, felt the press of his body heat against my back.

Though the zip was subtle - hidden - Asher found it immediately. Of course, I didn't doubt that a Prince would have had _many_ opportunities to practice undoing a dress.

His knuckles settled at the apex of my spine. Cushioned between my shoulder blades.

He started to drag the zipper downwards.

He didn't brush my hair aside, as he might have done if we were more intimate. Though for this I was thankful. Had he moved it away, he'd have had a plain view of the raised, jagged ridges of scars littering my back. That, I felt certain, would have raised more than one question.

I felt the thrum of the zipper's movement all the way down the path of my spine. He was careful not to brush my skin. Though... I did feel the briefest of touches. One soft skim of his thumb, there for only a moment, at the very base of my spine as the zip came to it's journeys end.

I'm sure he felt me shudder. Or at the very least saw my shoulders tremble.

I took a measured step away and turned to face him. Making sure to hold my chest so that the now loose material didn't slide down my body.

Asher was staring at me.

I met his gaze, though that certainly seemed like the wrong idea. His eyes were dark, thrown into shadow as he frowned deeply. Rose pink had rushed into his cheeks in the time it had taken him to undo my dress. It settled into his high cheekbones, softening the hard angles. His hands were open, fingers twitching as if he was still in the middle of reaching for me.

I wondered what would happen if I were to drop my dress. I dismissed the ridiculous idea with venom, cursing myself.

My hands clenched on the bundled material at my chest. I _wasn't_ going to drop it. The dress was _staying_ on my body. To drive the point home in my own mind, I turned my hands into fists around the delicate folds.

Asher's eyes flashed down to catch that movement. The blush deepened. His lips parted. His eyes stayed pinned on my hands. Unbelievably, he swallowed. I watched with rapt attention as his Adam's apple fluttered in his throat.

With a steadying breath, I turned and darted into my bedroom.

I discarded my dress and hurriedly changed into bedclothes. For me that normally meant a simple baggy shirt. It only reached the middle of my thighs.

The maids never seemed bothered when they saw me wearing this in the evenings. But tonight it made me pause.

After that incident out there, emerging in nothing but a shirt might seem a little...

With a sigh, I retrieved a pair of shorts from a drawer. Hardly better; their hem just peeked out from beneath the shirt. They were all I had, them or I changed into a floor length nightdress provided by the palace.

That was out of the question, so the shorts would have to do.

I paused again. Eager as I was to get back out there, I was still sporting the look I'd worn for the Report. Hasty, I dragged a brush through my hair. That got rid of the setting spray holding the style in place. Though my hair was still ramrod straight; my curls would only return after a shower. I rubbed that miracle cream into my face too, washing off the swatches of make up with a spare cloth lying on my vanity.

I braced myself with hands on the door handles. I could have a rational conversation with Asher. It couldn't be _that_ hard. I'd kept my cool with the Queen (for the most part), I could keep my cool with Asher.

I dismissed what had happened before. I'd only asked him to undo my dress to defuse the argument I could feel brewing. I'd done it to distract him. Nothing more.

Still, I hadn't expected that small rush of... Well, whatever. It didn't matter. I hated Asher. Asher hated me.

Yanking open the door to the living room, I moved with purpose. I could handle whatever Asher was ready to throw at me. It's not like he was distracting, or anything like that.

My eyes found him like he was half magnet and they were made of metal. Almost out of spite, I tried not to stare. But... There was no denying that Asher Schreave was an attractive man.

When I saw him for the first time, he'd been drenched in silver from the moon. Now, stood with an elbow braced upon my fireplace, he was dripping in gold.

Unfair... So _unfair_.

The fire caused the shadows of his face to deepen, turning him from an ordinary man to a creature who'd been chiseled from marble. That bone structure was just... Otherworldly. His eyes weren't pale blue anymore but instead a frenzied orange. Frightening in their intensity. His hair had been brightened to tarnished gold, soft as spun silk. Even his shadow was imposingly big, thrown onto the wall behind him. Exaggerating that defined, toned body of his.

Nobody could blame me for finding him attractive. Not anyone at home, not anyone here. Sure, he was an asshole, and sure, I disliked him with every atom of my being, but...

But I stared at him. Drenched in liquid gold and blessed by the writhing firelight. In that moment, in any moment, I couldn't have told you that Asher Shcreave wasn't beautiful even if it meant my life.

He turned away from the fire at the sound of the doors clattering behind me. He stopped for a moment, seeming taken aback. No doubt by my horrendous attire.

With a deep breath, I crossed the room to take a seat on the couch, which wasn't pointed at the fire like the armchair was. This gave me a reason to look away from him. I folded my bare feet under me and folded my hands into my lap. The picture of calm.

Asher watched every movement I made. Eyes on me from the moment I stepped into the room to the moment I fell still on the couch. I was ready and prepared for whatever he would say to me next.

Strangely, he didn't immediately start speaking. But continued to stare, sweeping my frame with those startling orange eyes. His gaze lingered at the tattoos on my shins and my face made bare with the removal of make up.

"You asked to see me?" I prompted.

He sighed, trance broken, and turned back to the fire, tucking his hands behind his back. "I don't want to yell at you."

"Why? I thought it was a hobby of yours."

He cut me a glance, eyes narrowing. At the sight of my amused smile, he relaxed. Just messing around. I guessed people didn't make an effort to joke with him often, if he didn't easily recognise a teasing tone.

"A hobby, perhaps, but not a habit." He shook his head, "But you must understand how dire the situation is-"

"Which one? I understand I'm involved in one too many situations right now."

"Stop joking!" He demanded, rounding on me. His hands balled up at his sides, chest puffing under the layers of his fine suit. He was frowning again. "Don't you understand how serious this all is?"

"Don't you understand how much I want to go home?"

"No." He said immediately, teeth clenched again. "No, I don't understand that at all."

"It shouldn't be too hard to comprehend." I narrowed my eyes. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now."

"What doesn't?"

"You keeping me here in the name of _charity_. Your mother is going to send me home. Tonight, probably, tomorrow at the latest."

"That's what she said?" His eyebrows climbed up into the floppy mess of golden hair. He'd shook it loose from it's usual slick style.

"She said she'd speak to you. If you refused to send me home, she'd go to the King. If he agreed that he didn't want me here, they'd ignore your wishes and send me away." I couldn't help the smug grin I gave him, crossing my arms victoriously over my chest.

"Huh." He turned abruptly towards the fire again. Before he turned his face away, I saw the distinct curve of a smirk.

"What?"

He didn't reply.

 _"What?"_ I demanded.

"My mother already spoke to my father." He kept his voice measured as he said it. He looked round in time to see me seize up, in fear and horror. "He... They disagreed. My father doesn't want to throw you out, love."

My face must have dropped dangerously, because he held up his hands. "That conversation had nothing to do with me." He said quickly, faltering back a step. There must have been murder in my eyes. "I didn't even know they were discussing it. My father made the decision without any input from me."

"You're lying." I whispered.

I stood from my curled position on the couch. I didn't know if I was going to break his nose or burst into tears. Break his nose first, and _then_ burst into tears. That was a good plan.

"You're still here, aren't you?" He shrugged his broad shoulders.

I was hyperventilating. How was this possible? I'd made a fool of myself on national television! In front of hundreds of thousands of people! The Queen _herself_ had told me I was going home! How was it _possible?_ How could this happen?!

"It's your fault." I accused, my voice was inching towards hysterical. "You... You got to him before she did! You convinced him to keep me on as a fucking charity case, didn't you?"

"I told you I didn't!" He threw up his hands, exasperated. "My father wouldn't do that. He's a good man. He'd be appalled if he knew... Well, he's not like me."

"Not a damn prick?" I demanded, taking a threatening step towards him. He didn't retreat. "Not a fucking asshole intent on ruining my life?!" I was shouting now.

"You're being a little dramatic."

"Dramatic, huh?" I grabbed a book left on the little side table next to the couch. He spotted it in my hands as I spun, and ducked in time as I launched it.

It sailed over his head and slapped loudly against the wall. I already had another in hand. I'd retrieved a whole stack from the library the day before and I was thankful.

I lobbed that one too. He yelped as this one clipped his shoulder. Paperback though, not good enough.

"Eris, for Illéa's _sake-_ Ow!" The next one caught his thigh with a solid thump. He batted the next one aside with his palm.

"You don't know anything!" I shouted, "I'm overreacting? You're controlling my _life!"_

"Surely you know that staying here is the best thing for your family! Think of the funds you're sending home!"

"We don't need your fucking charity!" The next book missed, slapped aside by him, but the one after that followed too swift for him to hit aside. It him square in the stomach, and he stumbled back. "As if you give a shit about them anyway!"

"You're being ridiculous! You're the one that makes life here difficult! You're the one that tears about the palace, completely wild, breaking rules! If you weren't such a stubborn, idiotic menace, you might not be so miserable!"

I'd run out of books, so I chucked all the pillows at him. Those weren't nearly as effective as the books.

"Who are you to tell me anything?" I yelled. "You're selfish, cruel, a downright _bastard_ -!"

"Like you're any better than me!" He caught the pillow I hurled at him and flung it right back. The force of it hitting my chest knocked the breath right out of my lungs, but I recovered quickly.

"At least I have a few redeeming qualities! You on the other hand-"

"You don't even know me!"

"Well enough to know that you're a damn-"

"Don't you fucking think about throwing that at me."

The tone of his voice, a deadly growl, shocked me enough that I glanced down at what I was holding. Not a pillow, but the shoes I'd discarded on the floor. I didn't even remember bending to pick them up.

I glanced up to narrow my eyes at him.

"I _dare_ you, love." He snarled, lip curling in loathing.

Drawing back my hand to better gather more power and momentum, I took a breath to hurl it.

But at that exact moment, with my arm raised aloft to fling my shoe at his stupid, big head, an alarm sounded.

An alarm that shrieked with panic. It was so loud I dropped the shoes to throw my hands over my ears. It wasn't just my room; it was the corridor beyond, it was the whole damn palace, awake and screeching in hysterics.

"What the fuck is that?"

Asher hadn't even covered his ears. He straightened up out of the defensive stance he'd been hunched in, and was looking around wildly.

He met my eyes with fear reflected brightly in his own. "It's an early warning alarm. It means rebels are in the palace."

* * *

"Holy _shit_."

My head was spinning. Not exactly in fear. Perhaps panic. Maybe even a little bit of hysteria.

I was in the presence of the Prince of Illéa.

I could look after myself. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't exactly likely that I'd be a prime target for the rebels. But the _Prince?_

If they knew he was alone, unprotected, with no one but a silly Selection girl as a witness...?

If the rebels found us, they'd kill Asher. They'd kidnap him. They could hold the entire country to ransom if they found out that he was in such a vulnerable position.

With my mind racing at a hundred miles a minute and my heartbeat thundering in my chest, I made a quick, snap decision. A simple one, but one that could end my life or change it.

The decision? To protect the Prince of Illéa.

"Quick." The command was more to get myself moving than him.

Rushing as fast as I could, I fetched a jug of water from my bathroom and upended it over the fire in the living room. The icy spray assaulted my unprotected shins and feet, but I barely felt the chill.

"What're you doing?" He hissed.

"If there's light coming from this room, any rebels that get into the palace will check to see if someone's in here." I told him. When I glanced sideways at his face, he seemed surprised at my quick logic. I actually saw him swallow his sarcastic comment before it rose to his lips. No doubt something about me being smarter than I looked.

I moved to lock my living room door. Considered shoving the couch in front of it, but that would only be a hindrance if we had to get out of the room quickly. When I popped my head out to check, I found the corridor completely empty. Not even any distant sounds.

The balcony doors revealed nothing, just a half view into the public gardens. The rebels wouldn't be coming from within them anyway. They'd be coming, no doubt, from the vast expanse of forests that backed onto the palace grounds. That forest extended for miles and miles. It was so dense that it was considered suicide to venture into it unprepared. Soldiers patrolled that wilderness, but it wouldn't be all that hard to slip past in the dark. As these rebels had obviously managed to do.

"Come on." I herded him into my bedroom, hoping that might drown out the noise a little. The closed doors cut off some of the hollering, enough for us to hear ourselves think, at least.

There was no light except from the sluggish blue tinge from the moon outside my windows. I could barely see Asher's outline.

"What's the usual protocol for a rebel attack?" I asked over my shoulder as I started to tear through the room.

His shadowed form shifted. "We're escorted to the nearest set of tunnels that lead us underground to the safety bunkers."

"But you're here, so can't be escorted." I rubbed a hand over my aching eyes, "And no one has come to collect me."

"You're alone on this corridor." He said helplessly, "The three other girls who'd had suites here have gone home. You won't be the priority for a while. If the rebels have already got close enough to be in the palace, Guards will try to save as many as they can as fast as they can."

"And running to find one girl wastes resources." I nodded, taking a deep breath. "I understand that. Do you know where the nearest tunnels are?"

"No. I know only the ones nearest my own wing. Those tunnels lead to the main underground chamber where the Royal family have to wait. Only the highest in command know the positions of all the tunnels, just in case someone is captured and, well..." He shrugged.

"What do the rebels do? When they get into the palace?"

"It's not like the Northern Rebels, all those years ago. They simply want us dead and gone. They come in, destroy things, kill as many as they can, and then they leave. They're well organised. They've got basic weapons, nothing military grade, but they're efficient. High-tech, often short out the electricity, the security systems, the cameras. All of it."

"Do they stick to one area? Do they always target the same places? Is there any pattern to it at all?"

"Not that we've been able to figure out. But uncle Aspen does speculate that they're trying to find our safety bunker. Some of the Guards go missing on occasion, or some of the soldiers wind up with signs of torture. They want to know where to focus their attacks the hardest, but they've never found the tunnels."

My search turned up nothing. Absolutely nothing. Of course, there wouldn't be. What would a Selection girl need a weapon for? A fire poker out in the living room, that was the extent of my options. _Bollocks_.

As I turned back to Asher, the alarm cut out mid squeal. From the tightening of Asher's shoulders, it seemed that wasn't supposed to happen. So they'd got into the system, but hopefully hadn't yet made it into the palace.

We needed a plan, and fast.

This room wasn't exactly kitted out to withstand an attack. If the rebels got wind that Asher was missing, if the Guards let that information slip... Everyone would be looking for him. The best plan would be to get him to a secure location as soon as possible.

"Darling, stop for a second." Asher's big hands snagged my arms, and braced on my shoulders to pin me in place. The gentle touch surprised me. "We're going to be okay."

I almost laughed. "I know."

"Oh." His hands fell away, and I saw his frown even in the dark. "How do you know?" Despite the fact he had been trying to reassure me, I heard the tremor in his question.

I was certain he saw the glint of my smile, even in the gloom. "Because I know what I'm capable of."

He blinked. "You know, love, I should be embarrassed by how much you frighten me."

"Why aren't you?"

"Because I feel my fear of you is justified."

Chuckling, I moved around him and back into the living room. "Keep that in mind the next time you piss me off."

"What're you doing?" He demanded, following me back into the living room.

"We have to go, Asher."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"If word gets out that you're missing, every single rebel will be looking for you. We have to act fast, and get to a more secure location."

"What we have to do is stay put until Guards come to collect you. When they see that I'm here too, we'll be evacuated to a safe room immediately."

"After all the trouble I've caused, and your mother's particular dislike for me, nobody is rushing to save me."

"That's not true."

"Did you tell anyone you were coming to see me?"

"No." He crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. I could feel the ferocity of his scowl, even if I couldn't see it.

"And when it's discovered you're not in your rooms, all efforts will be put into finding _you_. Nobody is coming for me."

"Don't be-"

"I'm not being ridiculous! I'm being realistic! This is a life or death situation, and if we stay here and get cornered, we will die. Do you understand that?" I grabbed his shoulders, squeezed hard to make sure he got my point. "I may not be important in the grand scheme of things, but you _are_. You're the Prince of Illea, and if they capture you they will do horrendous things. Do you understand that?"

"Of course I do," His hands gripped my wrists, more gentle than my hands held him. "But love, I'm barely trained. I could hold my own in a fight, maybe, if I were against a single man. I can't protect you, Eris."

This time, I did laugh. Quiet though, so as not to offend him too deeply. But it _was_ funny; it had been a long time since I'd been seen as someone who needs protection. Of course, people back home were well aware of my reputation, but Asher had no way of knowing.

"I can handle myself." Is all I told him.

"I'm sure you think that-"

Voices in the corridor cut him off. We both froze, bodies locking in fear and panic. I could hear heavy footfalls on carpet, coming closer but not rushing.

I grabbed Asher by the collar and dragged him, forcefully, across the room. He had to bend at the waist to accommodate my height, but didn't actually try to shake me loose. We hurtled behind the couch. I did my best to squish his big body into the shadows the chunky furniture offered.

Heart pounding, I grabbed his face and held it close to mine, so we were practically nose to nose. The proximity allowed me to see the proper blue of his eyes. Made more startling because of how wide they were with undiluted terror. We were both panting, short of breath, sharing the hot air between our mouths.

"Stay here." I whispered. "Stay down. Do not fucking move."

With the warning delivered, I slithered out from behind the couch. Lunged for the fireplace. Groped around the base for the long metal poker; the best weapon this room offered. The water I'd splashed over the logs still covered the floor. I rolled away from the mess so that my feet wouldn't make any sound against the wooden boards.

Weapon in hand, I darted across the room to take up a stance beside the door. If the stars had mercy, whoever was stomping down the corridor would keep on stomping. If the stars were feeling extra kind, it would be a Guard, come to collect me.

In any case, I wasn't going to stand around unprepared. The door would swing open wide and cover me, so whoever stepped into the room would find it empty. If they wore a Guards uniform, I'd reveal myself and the three of us would hurry to the safety bunkers. If it was a rebel...

The boots got louder. Whoever it was wasn't approaching with stealth.

 _Just go past. Just go past. Just go-_

The boots stopped right outside my door.

The handle twisted. Locked. The door rattled in it's frame when the person gave it a shove, then a kick. My breathing grew heavy. Adrenaline settled into my limbs, warming my blood, I could taste metal in the back of my mouth-

The bang of a gunshot made my ears ring. The lock on my door exploded, sparks flying, nearly singeing my bare legs.

It was all I could do to choke down a squeak of fear. But I didn't move.

Didn't even breathe as the door swung open.

A low light filtered in from the corridor, and the shadow that fell into the light was shaped like a man. The dull thud of his boots against the wood of the floor as he stepped into the room. Not far, enough to glance around.

"Hey." His voice, deep, gruff, made me jump. Static crackled through the air, then a small click, and then, "Sure you got it right? Second floor? Southern corridor?"

More static, a click- "Course I'm sure."

"All these rooms're fucking empty, you got me chasing shadows."

A radio. He was talking over a radio. I'd never used one, but Gruks back home in Fames carried them on their belts.

"You checked 'em proper?"

"Course I have, you damn moron."

"Well, there's not been one sightin' of her! So check 'em again!"

A click, louder than the previous ones, as the rebel in my doorway turned his radio off completely.

 _Her?_ Were they looking for someone specific? Who could be important enough that the rebels would send one of their own looking in enemy territory?

The rebel stepped further into the room. Not far enough that I could see him around the edge of the door. Maybe he wouldn't check properly. But I knew, without a doubt, if he moved to check in my bedroom, he would spot Asher behind the couch.

I heard the man sigh in annoyance, grumble under his breath, and then he started into the room.

My stomach lurched.

Edging around the door, I caught sight of the rebel. He was heading for my bedroom. Slowly, glancing around the place, aiming for the open door. If he got there and glanced sideways, he'd see Asher.

Fucking damn everything in this whole universe.

Silent, I slipped from the cover of the door and approached from behind. Keeping my weight low, my feet quick, I was behind him in seconds.

He must have sensed my presence, or heard my shallow breaths, because he froze. Started to wrench around, the beginnings of a shout erupting, hand reaching for his thigh-

I brought the poker down, hard, fast, right into the side of his skull.

The shout evaporated like smoke. His eyes rolled back in his head and down he went.

I caught him on the way down, grunting under his weight, and lowered him to the floor. I'd opened up a wound at his temple, but it wasn't deep enough to kill him. He'd have one banging headache though.

Now that I wasn't completely overwhelmed by my own fear, I could see that he had a head full of shocking red hair.

"Stars above, Eris." Asher emerged from behind the couch. His eyes wide as he found me crouched over the rebel, hands riffling through his clothes.

"How good is your aim?" I unclipped the sturdy handgun from the holder at his thigh.

"Adequate."

"Better than mine, then. You take it." I passed it over, and he took it like he was comfortable with the feel of it in his hands, which was a small blessing. "It's not my weapon of choice, anyway."

"What is?" He grimaced like he didn't want to know.

In response, I jerked the pair of long, sharp daggers from the belt of the rebel. Asher's mouth dropped open. I flashed him a grin as I stood.

"Time to go."

* * *

Thank you for reading! Xo


	15. Chapter Fifteen - Daggers and Darkness

Asher had been in the act of leaning out the door to my living room, after a close inspection of the corridor beyond. He almost stepped out, tilted forward to do so, but my hands lashed forwards.

Before he could move anywhere, I'd grabbed him by the arm, wrenched him back, and pinned him to the wall.

"Eris, what the-"

My forearm braced across his chest like a vice. With his head against the wall, I brandished a dagger close to his pretty face. The glint of the cold metal halted whatever words he was about to spit at me.

"Let's get one thing clear, right now." I growled in his face. His eyes flared wide. "You are to stay behind me. You are to do as I say. If trouble finds us, you will not develop any sudden heroic tendencies. However, if trouble does find us, and I die for your insolent ass, I will rise from the fucking grave to _kick_ your ass, _bene?"_

Something I said had gotten to him, because he nodded after he'd blinked the confusion out of his eyes.

"Good, then we're ready to go."

With that, I tucked one dagger into the waistband of my shorts, and held the other in my right hand, pointing down. Better to have one hand free.

Ready, I checked the corridor myself. Nothing to see, but it might not stay that way for long. If the rebel currently snoozing on my floor didn't check in soon over the radio, they'd come looking for him. Of that, I was certain.

I flitted to the end of my corridor and glanced down the adjoining one. Clear. I waved for Asher to join me.

Before I could start moving again, Asher grabbed my wrist.

"We should take the staff's stairwells." He muttered, head bent low to my shoulder.

"That'll take us well out of the way."

"Yes, but they're obviously already in the palace. The soldiers will be fighting rebels out in the grounds. But the Guards aren't instructed to fight them, not in such close quarters. That's why it's so quiet."

"What's your point?" I hissed at him. We were wasting too much time on this corridor.

"My point," He scrubbed the sweat off his brow. "Is that the rebel you just smacked into the afterlife got here pretty easy. If he made it to your corridor, it means there's more rebels than Guards above ground right now. The main stairwell will be a strong position for them to hold. If you place a rebel on each floor, you'd be able to monitor all the main corridors."

"Huh." I glanced sideways at him, surprised.

He shrugged, "It's what I would do."

"Staff stairwells it is, then." Instead of darting towards the right, I aimed left.

As we started to move again down the new corridor, the floor beneath my bare feet trembled. I came to a standstill, heart in my mouth, as the chandeliers above us trembled. A distant roar, like a coming thunderstorm, made the furniture in the corridor shudder.

"Bombs." Asher informed me, looking to the nearest window. There was fear in his eyes, but also a grim sort of anger around the edges of his mouth.

"Quick."

True to form, Asher stayed behind at every single corner. Waited for me to check ahead, and followed dutifully when I signalled for him. Together, we made our silent way through the maze of dark corridors. Keeping low, keeping steady. Asher was quick on his feet and sure of himself. He showed no signs of panicking, except for the sweat that sparkled on his forehead and down the column of his throat.

"You need a break?" I asked as we paused, both our chests heaving. No good if he died of a heart attack before we got to safety.

"I can keep up."

I believed him.

Straightening out of my crouch, I swung round to check the next hall.

Before I could, Asher's arm encircled my ribs and yanked me roughly backwards. I stumbled, his chest cushioning my fall, before I caught myself on the solid anchors of his shoulders.

"Wh-" his hand mashed my lips together.

The stomp of boots in the corridor a moment later had my insides freezing. I looked up at Asher, who had gone pale as fallen snow, as we listened to those boots storm closer.

We moved at the same time. Launching into frenzied activity to retreat from the approaching company. I wasn't waiting to find out if they were rebels or Guards, and Asher seemed to share the sentiment.

Thankfully, there were doors on this corridor. Horrifically, the first two we tried were locked.

Threes a charm, because Asher shoved the third one open with a shoulder. We fell inside, a tangle of limbs and hysteria. I spun, grabbed the open door, and tried to swing it closed as quick and quiet as I could.

Not all the way, because the boots were heavy and right _there_ , turning down our corridor. And any sign of movement might have drawn their eye.

We backed swiftly, as one, into the nearest and darkest corner of the room. His back was to the wall and my chest to his back. His heartbeat drummed between my shoulder blades. His heavy breath scorched the nape of my neck.

They were laughing. _Laughing_.

The sound seemed out of place to me. At odds with the frantic pounding of my heart; so wild I could feel it thrum in my ears and toes and fingertips. Nor did it seem to be a worthy cause for Asher to clamp his hand so tight around my wrist my bones were aching. Terrified, we were. Yet... They were laughing.

We could hear the steady bass of their voices as they drifted passed, but nothing of what was said. Their volume was low, but their pace one of leisure. They were in no hurry. Nor, it seemed, did they fear the thought of capture or conflict.

" _Scheisse_." I murmured.

Suddenly, I felt very faint. The floor seemed like a good place to sit for a moment.

Asher followed as soon as he felt me slump. We hit the floor. Side by side, shoulders and thighs bumping. We tried to huddle into the smallest possible space against the wall.

For a long minute, we simply breathed.

As we sat there, he stripped off his suit jacket with a small struggle. "Do you want this?"

I realised that I was only wearing my baggy shirt and shorts, without even shoes on. I must have looked completely ridiculous. I shook my head anyway; too hot to consider adding an extra layer.

"I've never been so scared." He muttered, his entire face flushed berry red. He chucked the jacket away from him.

"Never?"

"Well," he squinted into the dark room, contemplating. "Maybe once, a few years ago."

"Another rebel attack?"

"No."

The answer was clipped enough that I didn't question further. He'd tell me if he wanted to.

"You?" His elbow nudged at my ribs.

"Nah." I shrugged. Sniffed. He was frowning at me with disapproval.

"You're telling me you're not scared?" Asher demanded. His eyes were grey in the gloom. His face nothing more than an outline. He'd kept hold of my wrist. In the other hand, he clutched the gun so hard it shook.

"I've seen worse." My smile was pitiful, but it seemed to steady him a little. His grip on my arm eased in pressure. "We'll be okay."

"You sound so sure."

"I am."

"I believe you." His thumb stroked the delicate flesh of the inside of my wrist. "Of all the people I could have been with when this happened... I've got a feeling that being with you was the best possible luck a man can have."

His words made me smile, and suddenly, I was calm. Calm because Asher was relying on me, because he needed me. Because this was the scariest situation he'd ever faced and I was capable of handling it.

"Get up." I ordered.

He got up.

* * *

"The staff stairwell is right there." I told him, pointing into the dark alcove that expertly hid the downward spiral of the stairs. This was the route that myself and the maids used when we were heading for the kitchens.

"Extra quiet, then." He murmured, "If we're lucky, they only bothered to cover the main stairs, and they don't know about these."

"In case we aren't lucky," I eyed him, the steadiness of his hands, one of which held the gun. "You remember what I told you."

"No heroics." He nodded, mouth inching upwards in an attempt of a smile.

I took his nod as a confirmation of the agreement we'd made. If we got into trouble, he would run.

I darted out into the open and into the darkness of the alcove. Paused there in the shadows for a few moments, listening to see if there were any noises echoing off the stone. I could detect none at all.

Waving for Asher, I waited for him at the top of the stairs. Once he'd joined me, we started down, slowly.

"Two levels." He whispered. His hand was on my shoulder.

The lights were out, so we felt our way through the darkness. My hand on the stone, his hand on me, feeling our way, blind, down the treacherous valley of unforgiving stone. Hopefully, our tread was quiet enough that it didn't echo. My bare feet wouldn't be a problem, his expensive shoes, however...

I made him wait a few steps up from the first open doorway, one floor down.

Inching towards the open alcove, I made to tilt my head around the lip of the wall to inspect the open corridor. Before I could even pop my head out, voices echoed from the corridor beyond.

Asher's strong arm seized me around the stomach so quick I almost gasped in fright. He yanked me back, right off my feet, into the darkest shadows the stairwell offered. Asher yanked me around and jammed me forcefully into the wall, my back to the stone, the two of us chest to chest. He was one step down, so we were almost matched in height, for once.

I tried to protest. Annoyed that he'd put his back to the danger, annoyed that he was exposed and I was the one covered. Before I could open my mouth, his hand came down over my face, jamming the scathing words in before I could spit them out.

I sent the stars a thank you for the power cut, because if it hadn't been, they'd have discovered us for certain.

The voices drifted closer, loud enough to make out the words.

We both grew still and silent as the grave, dread surrounding us like the shroud of death itself.

"Those flash bombs worked wonders on disrupting the ranks of soldiers." A woman's voice, rushed with excitement, reached us first. "Actually panicked them for a while. They divided their squadrons between protecting the palace and chasing the Artemis division."

My gaze locked with Asher's. Information, this was valuable information we were overhearing.

"And the systems?" A man asked. His voice was monotone, barely involved in the conversation. Whoever this man was, if the woman was reporting to him, he must have been important. High up in the ranks of the rebels.

"The Muses, as always, have done their jobs well." The woman seemed to be skipping with glee. "Bypassed their security, infected the whole place like a virus. Most major systems are offline, so they won't get their comms or security fields up for a few days. We were only able to take control of a few cameras, but the ones we did take are on main corridors. We should get some good action."

"They're feeding back to the country?"

"Every open network, we've got it."

"Make sure we're strongest in the poorer provinces."

"Of course," I'd bet my life she was taking notes.

"Has there been any sign of her?"

"No, General." Suddenly, the woman sounded annoyed. "No sign. But we're looking."

Asher tensed against me. They were passing right by the open doorway.

"Hurry up. I intend to take her with me."

"And anyone else we happen to find?"

"No hostages tonight. We leave them dead or we leave them be. We'll have to move fast, especially if we've got precious cargo. Can't be dragging people along who make too much noise, you know I can't stand the hassle of their screaming."

"Roger that, General."

There was something about the man's voice. Something that, very suddenly, had me thinking that his tone was somewhat familiar. The way he seemed annoyed at the prospect of too much noise. Or perhaps the way his tone softened as he spoke of this 'her' he was searching for.

Maybe it was the accent. It sounded almost like mine.

Unease settled into the pit of my stomach, though I couldn't quite grasp why.

Asher removed his hand from my mouth and breathed a deep sigh of relief as their voices faded.

His forehead fell against my collarbone. I wondered if he could feel my heart steady from it's wild fluttering.

"I need a drink." He mumbled into my shirt.

I snickered, doing my best to smother the noise. "We'll have one straight after."

He leaned back to look me in the eyes, hands braced either side of my body, his torso arching towards mine. Unbelievable, that even at a time like this, I could pause to observe how imposingly handsome he is.

"Promise?" He asked, the spark of mischief warming those icy blue eyes.

"Promise."

I palmed the sweaty hair from his forehead, patted his cheek, and ducked around him to move down the stairs. After a moment, he followed dutifully.

We bypassed that corridor all together, descending again into the inky darkness. I could barely see my hand in front of my face.

Which is probably why, at that exact moment, I slipped.

Asher had a hand on my shoulder, so when I lost my footing, he felt me drop. His hand clamped tight around my arm immediately, saving me from a bruising fall on the stone steps.

But I panicked too, throwing out an arm to catch myself on the stone wall. Unfortunately, that was the hand I had the dagger in. The dagger lanced off the stone, wrenched out of my hand, and hurtled down the stairs. It made a horrendous, screeching racket the whole damn way.

"Fuck." Asher breathed in my ear.

"Run. _Now_."

He let go, and we lunged around and down, plummeting into the darkness as fast as our feet could take us. That noise would have echoed out of every single doorway on this staircase. It could have been heard on every single fucking floor.

Our best chance was to get away as quick as possible, before any rebels decided to investigate.

"There." Asher panted.

The square of light, cast by the moon, flooded into the stairwell, lighting the last few steps for us.

If we could get off the stairs, and around some corners, we'd be far enough away that they couldn't follow.

We'd be fine, we just had to be quick enough and quiet enough-

I flew out of the door, gasping my relief-

Only to run straight into a solid, hard chest.

* * *

Hands grabbed at me immediately, more than one set. Big hands, strong ones, that grabbed at my arms and hair and throat and clothes.

I tried to choke out a scream. More to warn Asher than to actually release my fear, but a sharp slap to the face knocked the sound back down my throat.

Too late, anyway, I could hear Asher struggling behind too. He'd run right out after me.

"Look what we've got here!" The one who'd slapped me laughed.

"Shit on a flaming stick, Tristen." Another voice gasped from behind, "It's the fucking Prince."

Tristen dragged me round, one hand on my arm and the other wrapped in a fistful of my hair.

My heart stuttered in my chest, and almost gave out right there with pure, undiluted terror.

One of them had an arm around Asher's throat. They were wrestling him to his knees, better to control his tall, strong body. He was struggling, but his eyes were also pinned on the gun aimed at his chest.

There were two on him, three on me. Five. I'd faced worst odds.

I started to cry. Loudly. Hysterically. Flopping in my captors arms. One of them caught and held me up around the ribs. Tristen let go of my hair in disgust and turned to address Asher.

"Out for a midnight stroll, Your Majesty?" Tristen leered.

"Something like that." Asher got out between gritted teeth. He was throwing concerned glances my way.

"How are you enjoying our little visit?" Asked the man with his forearm jammed into Asher's windpipe.

"It's quite impressive this time around." Credit to him, he kept his voice steady.

"Isn't it?" Tristen laughed, "Bet you're put out about not being in your hidy-hole. What a turn of _events_ , you being out here with us."

"We should radio it through, Tristen. Let the General know." The one holding me said. The sound vibrated through his chest, pressed tight to my shoulder blades.

I hoped, with everything in me, that he wouldn't feel the hard line of the dagger at my hip.

"We will, we will." Tristan - a stout, blonde man with beady, small eyes - grinned down at Asher with nothing less than contempt. "But we should probably have some fun first."

His fist lashed out and caught Asher right in the mouth. Blood burst, and dribbled down his chin.

I cried out, whimpering pathetically at the violence.

"Don't! Please!" I yelled around a sob. "Don't hurt him."

"Take her, Brent. Do what you want with her." Tristen waved a hand without looking at me, "You can join us, Joey."

The one holding onto my bicep let go. But the one who had an arm around my stomach tightened his grip until it was crushing me.

"Leave something for the rest of us." Joey, a tall young man with dark hair, spoke over me like I didn't even exist.

"Can't promise anything." Brent grunted back, and started to yank me away from the group.

Panic, real now, shot through me. But that was okay. Panic could be used. Anger could be used.

For now, I must grit my teeth and accept whatever Brent was intending to give. The largeness of his body was giving him arrogance; he did not expect me to fight back. He didn't expect me to resist. With his arrogance would come laziness.

Which is why he'd be all the more surprised when I split open his skull.

But before I could murder him with my bare hands, I first had to keep up the charade.

So I shrieked, struggling weakly against his hold on me.

He growled in my ear, annoyed, and let go of my stomach to grip my arm, better to drag me into the shadows of the hallway.

"Don't touch her!" Asher shouted, furious, but the shout cut off as a fist collided with his stomach. He'd be black and blue after this evening.

Brent chuckled a little at Asher's yell. He assumed that Asher cared for me, and he would treat me all the worse because of that. The hatred of the Prince, the palace, was so consuming that Brent would take that fury out on me gladly.

He shoved me, as hard as he could, into a nearby wall.

I grunted under the blow, knees buckling, but he caught me before I could sink to the floor.

"The Prince's whore, are you?" He hissed in my face, and backhanded me right across the jaw. The blow was so thunderous I tasted blood in my mouth.

Whimpering, I tried to scurry away from him.

He laughed at the attempt, and dragged me right back.

"If you can spread your legs for him, you can spread your legs for me." He grabbed roughly at my hair and wrenched me round, dragging me to a nearby table.

He yanked me into it, and my hip squealed in protest as it collided with the hard edge. Brent's big hands, dirty hands, scattered what was atop the dark wood, knocking it all to the floor with a crash.

"Don't, please don't." I pleaded with him. Sobbing.

He only laughed.

Hands in my hair again to haul me towards him, and he then lifted me at the ribs, depositing me with a jolt on top of the table.

"Stop it!" I was yelling, struggling against his hold, slapping him around the face.

He wrestled me down on top of the table, his mouth on my throat, his hands pinning my arms at my sides, his grip bruising.

He wasn't evening listening. How _dare_ he. How dare he treat anyone like this. How dare the rebels pose themselves as fucking heroes to all who would listen.

I was merely a Selection girl. An innocent girl who was summoned to the palace. Imagine if I was Luna or Lauren. Or any number of the other girls who didn't know how to defend themselves. Imagine if I was a maid, simply earning a living.

These fucking men tear their way through this house. They ruin everything in their path, and then they have the nerve to praise themselves for doing it.

They would learn tonight. They would learn that not everyone in this palace was weak, and not everyone was so easily ruined.

I'd put the fear of mortality back into their wretched fucking hearts.

Brent was struggling with one of my arms, and fumbling at his belt with the other. He was biting roughly at my shoulder. That would leave bruises.

I had killed in the past for less.

He lowered himself on top of me, his stomach and shoulders pinning mine down against the wood.

Asher was still yelling, probably in response to my high pitched wails of fear. He knew what was happening to me. I couldn't hear him clearly over the roaring in my head.

Brent was breathing heavy in my ear, still struggling with the hem of his trousers. My flailing legs were causing some obstruction.

"You little bitch." He was cursing me.

"Tell me." I muttered back to him, panting with the effort of struggling against his body, "Are you afraid of dying?"

"What?" He drew back, surprised enough by my tone of voice that he paused his assault.

The dagger I'd retrieved from the waistband of my shorts was in my hand, the cool metal of the hilt warming in my grip.

Smiling was probably inappropriate at a time like this.

But then again, raping someone was inappropriate too. I didn't feel too bad about drawing my arm back, tilting the dagger down, and shoving it deep into the small of his back.

He was so shocked he didn't even yell. Just drew in a deep, gasping breath, staring down at me like I'd done something to faintly annoy him.

"I guess you're the one taking the prick." I grinned, spat the blood in my mouth into his face, and stabbed him again, plunging the dagger deep into his back. It was sure to hit something important.

We rolled together off the table, him landing under me with a sickening thud.

I'd already yanked the dagger out, and I left him there to bleed to death. I could have cut his throat, but I wanted him to suffer.

I came up on my knees, spitting more blood from my mouth.

Asher was being held by the arms, Tristen was stood off to one side, observing, and Joey was laying into him.

Hopefully, they'd offer me a decent fight. I felt my body, my mind, settle into the haze of the violence. I'd missed this. More than anything, I'd missed the release that fighting gave me. The calm it offered. I never felt more at peace than I did in the middle of a fight.

I was behind Joey before I knew that I was moving.

The dagger disappeared into his side, right up into his ribs. He stiffened, as shocked as Brent had been, before I shoved him aside. He hit the floor with a dull thump and curled around his ribs.

I chose a rebel at random and lunged. Before anyone could react to their friend hitting the floor, I'd descended upon my next victim. Immediately, I punched him in the face. Sent an elbow to his diaphragm, and kicked his knee backwards so hard his whole body buckled.

Before I could aim a killing blow, the other one threw himself at me.

"Up, up, up!" I hollered at Asher.

I didn't catch if he made it to his feet, because the rebel hit me in the stomach and down we both went.

The dagger flew out of my hand and skidded across the wooden floor into the darkness.

Dammit.

We grappled on the floor, wrestling viciously.

He came out on top, pinning me with his hips.

He got his hands around my throat and tried to choke the life out of me. I slammed my hands into his forearms, dislodging his grip. I grabbed hold of his wrists and yanked his body down while I flung my head up.

His nose crunched under the force of my skull. He rolled off me, yelling into his palm, and I took the moment to scramble to my feet.

Glancing round, I saw Asher and Tristen stagger into a wall.

"Ash! I told you to run!" I spluttered as the rebel landed a blow to my stomach that had me gasping.

"I'm a little busy!" Asher yelled back.

Despite everything, I almost laughed.

The rebel ran at me, caught me round the hips, and ran full length into the nearest wall. The breath left me in a shriek as my back took the impact and my ribs struggled under the force.

I blocked one punch but couldn't deflect the next blow to my face. It almost blindsided me, but it didn't stop the elbow I sent into his skull, nor the kick to his ribs that had him gasping.

He grabbed my hair, dragged me in a tight circle and threw me into a nearby table.

I went head over heels. Tumbled messily over the wood and right off the other side. Landing heavily amongst the glass and water and scattered flowers.

The rebel descended, kicking me, hard, in the stomach.

My hand scrambled, and I grabbed the almost intact china vase the flowers had been sat in.

I blocked the next kick with my forearm. My whole limb sung with pain as I rolled to my knees, stumbled up, and brought the vase crashing down over his skull.

He dropped to his knees, then slumped to the floor, out cold.

"Asher!" I whirled.

Tristen had him in a headlock and was choking the life right out of him.

I hurtled towards them.

I punched Tristen in the kidneys, crippling him immediately. As he gasped, I dragged him off Asher with a fistful of his blonde hair.

Asher dropped, heaving for breath and clutching his throat.

Tristen recovered quicker than I'd been expecting.

It was clear right away that Tristen was far better trained than any of the others were. Probably why they'd all reported to him.

I stopped thinking. Started reacting. Retreated into that harsh, dark place inside of my chest so that my body could do what it did best.

He lunged, and we collided like forks of lightening. He had power, brute strength, and fury on his side. On mine, there was years of honed skill, stubbornness, and fury to match his.

I sent him into the wall with a kick to the stomach. He dodged my swinging fist, wrenched me forward, and kneed me in the ribs. We stumbled apart, and went back at it again.

This is where I existed best. I could play at being kind, at being a person capable of love and gentleness and warmth. But if that were true, then I should not feel so at home in the violence. In the brutality.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and used it as a leash to slam my head into the floor. Once, twice, three times. Seeing stars, I lashed out blind. Caught him in the throat, heard him gasp. I brought my knee up into the inside of his thigh. Grabbed his jacket, yanked him down as I rolled, ended up crouched over him. I shoved my thumbs into his eyes.

If I were truly a good person, then I shouldn't feel content in such a dangerous situation. Should not have savoured the pain that blossomed as Tristen hit me, as I hit him back. Should not have found peace in the rough dance of our struggle.

He kicked me, right in the chest, sending me sprawling head over heels off him. His fist collided with my jaw before I had a chance to stand. He yanked me up, punched me in the stomach. I deflected the next blow, yanked his head down to knee him in the temple, and bit deep into his cheek as he tried to rise.

A monster. That's what I was. I knew it, and slowly Tristen realised it too. No doubt Asher would know, as soon as he looked around and saw the carnage I was creating.

It was a vicious, dirty fight. No honour in it at all.

Tristen delivered a blow to my thigh that ripped a ragged scream right out of my throat. It must have torn a tendon or muscle or _something_ , because the pain was blinding.

He saw his chance. Shoved me into the nearest wall and wrapped his hands around my throat, squeezing tight.

Before he could put any real pressure into it, an explosive boom made my ears ring, and Tristen stiffened. The wood at my ear exploded, and shards scraped against my cheek as they flew.

I glanced down, and saw a gaping, bloody hole at Tristen's shoulder. Tendon and flesh hung loose from the wound, and vomit rose in my throat at the sight.

Tristen looked down dumbly.

I slipped out from under him and grabbed the back of his head. Before he could move, I slammed his face into the wall with as much force as I could muster.

He slumped and hit the floor hard.

My leg buckled, and I stumbled to one knee, face pinched in pain.

"Eris."

I looked up, wiped sweat and blood out of my eyes, to see Asher stood there. Gun in hand. Chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked bad, so I must have looked horrendous.

"You didn't kill him." I said, "It was only the shoulder. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried about that, love." Suddenly, he was at my side, hands gentle as he took my arms in his grip. "Are you all right?"

"Why, do I look rough?" I glanced up at him, doing my best to grin.

"Ravishing." He rolled his eyes, but smiled back. His lip was cut, and so was his eyebrow. He'd have a nasty bruise on his cheek, too, but his face was otherwise spared.

I tried to stand, wobbling on one leg. Pain lanced through my left, crippling me for a moment. Asher caught me as I gasped.

"Is it broken?"

"No. I think he just... Pulled something. I'll be all right." Asher's mouth pinched into a tight line, his face pale, chest heaving.

Much the same as me, I guessed. I could feel the sweat coating my skin. My breath was still rattling in my lungs, struggling to get out of my mouth. I was aching everywhere. The adrenaline was rushing away, leaving me weak and shaking.

"We need to get you to safety, Ash." I reminded him sternly.

He blinked, glanced around, and nodded dully. Without asking, he pulled my arm over his shoulder and wrapped an arm around my waist. Half carrying me as we shuffled away from the nightmarish scene we'd left in our wake.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" His question was quiet.

"Wouldn't you like to know." I said lightly. Trying to be cheerful. Trying to make him feel a little better after he'd shot a person. There was no way of knowing how he'd react to that.

"You were..." He shook his head and squinted down the corridor. I braced for his fear, his judgement. "Incredible."

I faltered, and the movement lanced agony up my leg. I grunted, stumbling, but Asher steadied me.

"People don't..." I frowned, "People don't usually react that way."

His eyebrows inched up, silently asking for more of an explanation, but I didn't continue. He sighed.

"You saved my life, darling." He squeezed my waist gently. "Thank you."

I scowled at him. "Yeah well, don't expect me to do it again."

He smiled, properly this time. "Are you sure? I was thinking of hiring you as a personal bodyguard."

"You couldn't pay me enough, Schreave."

He laughed, "It'd be a twenty-four hour job, I'm afraid, going by how popular I am."

"Plus, considering how often the two of us fight, I'd end up having to arrest myself." We shared a grin. Then I hissed as a particularly vicious bolt of pain shot through me.

"Almost there."

But my leg buckled entirely before we'd even managed to turn the corner. Before I could fall, Asher caught me. With a roll of his eyes, he picked me up off the floor and carried me, bridal style. He was much quicker without my limping slowing him down.

"You're hurt too." I protested.

"Not nearly as bad." His blue eyes, blood shot, were still a little paranoid as he glanced around the corner. He started walking again. "It's not like I can't take a few punches."

"Well, you did good." I said, not looking at him.

"I'm trying not to find the tone of surprise too insulting."

"I took you for a pompous, arrogant, pretty boy." I smirked. "My tone of surprise is justified."

He spluttered, offended. Then he looked playfully thoughtful. "I mean... I did ask them in the beginning to avoid hitting me in the face. Does that count as pompous?"

Before I could answer, we turned a corner. Suddenly, there was a Guard in our face, pistol up and aimed at us. He opened his mouth as if to yell, looking both frightened and furious.

Asher didn't even blinked. Just waited, patiently, for the Guard to recognise him.

It didn't take long.

"Shut up, you buffoon." A tall, dark haired man shoved the Guard out of the way. "Asher! My stars, son, are you all right?"

The man didn't even look at me, but reached over my head to take Asher's face in his hands. Asher, in all fairness, looked a little embarrassed by the attention.

"Fine, uncle Aspen." He shifted me in his arms.

"We'll have you looked at in the bunker, quick now-"

"Eris!" Rolan arrived from the darkness, all but shoving Aspen out of the way in his haste to get a look at me. "Stars above, you're hurt."

"I'm okay." I told him, trying to smile.

Aspen was blinking between Rolan, Asher and myself now. He looked a little surprised that Asher had a small ginger woman curled up in his arms.

"Here, I'll take you-" Rolan reached for me like a parent does a child, ready to hoist me out of Asher's hold. Automatically, I leaned towards him. I assumed that Asher would hand me over rather than carry me himself.

To my great surprise, Asher shifted me away from Rolan's hands.

"I've got her." His voice offered no argument.

"It's really okay-" Rolan tried again, looking irritated.

Asher was already circling around him, cradling me a little tighter to his chest as he did so. I tried to throw an apologetic glance over Asher's wide shoulder, but I wasn't certain that Rolan caught it.

A section of the wall, disguised seamlessly as a an intricate painting, swung inwards. We descended down a flight of stone stairs and along a dark, cold corridor. Guards were in front of us, and the echo of feet behind told me there was more following.

"You enjoyed that." I accused Asher, glaring up at the sharp angle of his jaw. The only thing I could see from my vantage point.

"I don't know what you're talking about." His voice was innocent enough.

"Prick."

"It's not every day you get to sweep a lady off her feet." The words broke on a laugh.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I do apologise for not updating quicker; I've recently returned to university and I've been a bit busy, but now that I'm back into the swing of things I'll be able to upload more often. Comments are appreciated! Xo


	16. Chapter Sixteen - Knuckles and Healing

The destruction that the rebels left behind was swiftly and efficiently cleaned away.

We emerged like rats creeping from a tunnel in the early morning light. There was still mist roiling over the grounds outside the broken windows. The air was a cool, inky blue as we stepped into the carnage that the rebels had left behind.

Crowds of staff were busy tidying, scrubbing and rebuilding that mess. Regardless of the hour, they didn't stop working.

I was in a hurry to make it back to my rooms, eager to check on the maids, but I was stopped at almost every corner. Communications were still fried inside the palace, but news had managed to escape. Everyone knew of the fight with the rebels. Staff members appeared seemingly from nowhere. They gasped at the sight of my injuries and were desperate to know if I'd be all right.

After a haphazard job of dodging as many questions as I could, I hurtled into the safety of my own rooms.

"Eris!" Kit shrieked.

The shrill cry almost shattered my eardrums. Though it didn't do quite as much damage as her body did when she barrelled into me from across the room.

"Careful!" Robyn hissed, catching me with a hand between my shoulder blades as I rocked backwards.

Even with the warning, Kit clung to me desperately. "We were so worried, Eris! The soldiers told us that you'd reached the tunnels safe! But they couldn't tell us anything else at all!"

"The soldiers?" I asked Robyn.

"They rotate through the bunkers under the kitchens. Keep us updated while communications are down, sort of thing." She informed me. "Those soldiers you made friends with the other day let us know that you got hurt, but that you were safe."

They'd have been first to know, I supposed. Even in a crises, word seemed to travel like a rat underfoot in this place.

"You're okay though?" Kit finally drew away, looking me over with a practised, worried eye.

"The palace surgeon looked me over. Said I just needed rest." I shrugged.

"We'll send for our own healer." Robyn said immediately. "If the Prince got hurt too, your injuries wouldn't have earned half a glance. I'll go right now."

"I'll go." Taylor unfurled herself from the floor. I hadn't even noticed her crouched by the fireplace. She stood with a basket of wet towels, most of them stained red with blood. A glance at the spot where the rebel had sprawled last night revealed nothing but polished wood. They must have been scrubbing away any trace of last nights events.

I didn't expect her to say anything to me. In fact, it was odd that she was here at all. Any staff who wasn't strictly necessary for cleanup or security had got the day off. But here she was anyway.

She was looking more polished than Robyn and Kit. The basket balanced on one wide hip, her hair pulled into that too tight style on top of her head. As she moved, she shoved up her square glasses with her spare hand.

I expected her to breeze right passed. Prepared for that route of action by herding Kit - still clutched to my chest - out of the way of the door.

Instead, she paused as she drew level with me. Sniffed. Pursed her lips in a way that made the scar at her lip gleam white. She took a breath, let her dark eyes wander over my face.

There was no doubt that it was a sorry sight. I hadn't encountered a mirror yet, but judging from the panic everyone seemed to be expelling, it was bad news. The throbbing seemed to be a reliable indicator of the mess my face was in, anyhow.

Maybe that's why she decided to speak. "I'm glad..." She looked away, frowned, and glanced back. "I'm glad you didn't die."

She was gone before I could thank her for the kindness. I wondered, not for the first time, if she was like my little brother Henry. Henry, who had trouble organising his emotions. Who fixated, obsessive, on things that interested him. Who sometimes didn't quite understand how to deal with other people. Henry had autism, and I wondered if Taylor was on the spectrum too.

"She's starting to like you." Robyn grinned, reaching out to squeeze my wrist.

"Yeah, sure." I agreed, smiling back.

They bundled me onto the couch. It didn't take long until they were peppering me with questions about the Prince. About the mad dash through the Palace, about the fight.

"None of the phones were working," Kit informed me, grave. "But there's a TV in our bunker, and the rebels were broadcasting over the main networks. Different channels showed different things. Fighting in the grounds. Old footage, which showed the monarchy as awful. Destruction of the Palace. They showed the entire thing. From the moment you and the Prince stepped out of the stairwell to the moment the Prince carried you away."

"It was all very dramatic." Robyn assured me, squeezing my knee from where she crouched in front of the sofa, looking up at us.

They both looked drawn and tired.

Robyn was looking pale. More so than usual beneath the thick swathes of freckles. Her usual thick braid was absent, and instead her heavy blonde tresses hung loose, well past her bum.

Kit was looking more jittery than usual. Her reddish-brown skin, usually so warm, was too dark beneath the eyes. Her headscarf, usually so pristine, was slipping from it's pins. The loose fabric revealed thick ropes of black hair.

"Your scarf, Kit." I murmured, and began to help her tighten it around her head.

"Oh, good thing you pointed it out." She tittered, hands raising automatically. She didn't need a mirror. "It's considered inappropriate for people we don't know to see our hair."

I wondered at this 'we', and opened my mouth, not for the first time, to question where this tradition had come from. I'd never seen anyone in Fames wear fabric around their head every single day. Some of the black women wore scarves to keep their curls contained while working. It was practical. Though Kit's reasons for the scarf seemed to run deeper than practicality.

"Very romantic, actually." Robyn flicked her eyebrows up.

The statement distracted me from my curiosity, and I frowned at her.

"Well," she shrugged her wide shoulders, "It was... Interesting to see. The way you fought for him. The way he fought for you."

The implication was clear.

"That's not..." I spluttered, "It wasn't like _that!_ I, well, we... He's the Prince of Illéa, for crying out loud! What was I supposed to do?"

The arrival of Taylor, Madam Darrow, and the healer saved me from the conversation I could see brewing. Madam Darrow made enough of a distraction of herself, anyhow. Tumbling into complete hysterics at the sight of my face and the state of the shirt and shorts I was wearing. A change of clothes weren't offered in the bunker.

The healer - a tall, black woman - led me into my bedroom and shut the door, hard, behind us. She too must have realised that Madam Darrow would not mollified.

She didn't wear a dress like the maids, but the heavy denim overalls seemed to be her own sort of uniform.

She had me strip down, her strong hands helping me efficiently when I struggled to raise my arms.

Her inspection lasted a lot longer than the one the palace surgeon had performed. In fact, her mouth dropped open when I told her I'd already had an examination.

"Some of these wounds need obvious treatment." Her eyes narrowed, "Why didn't he bind any of them?"

"Asher got hurt too." I shrugged. "And people don't like me much here."

"Completely incompetent." She ground out. The heavy pile of twisted curls on top of her head were almost knocked loose, she shook them so hard. They were a mass of salt and pepper, and they trembled, furious, as she spat; "This will take some time."

She didn't chat while carrying out her work, as so many did in the palace. Gentle but firm, swift but efficient, she made the process almost painless. She cleansed every single scrape and scratch. Bound up the bigger wounds and lathered the smaller ones in ointments and creams.

"This will encourage the edges to merge swifter." She told me, eyes still intent on her work. "If you use the oils that I'll leave behind, then you should be left without many scars." Her eyes, almost as dark as my own, flicked up. "Of course, you seem to be no stranger to those."

Stood naked before her, I couldn't exactly deny the statement. Still, she didn't ask, so I didn't answer.

"You know," she didn't murmur, as someone with sympathy might have. "I can provide you with some treatments if you wish for these scars to fade quicker." She was stood behind me, taping up a particularly deep scrape on my shoulder. I could feel her gaze on my bare back. "Of course, being so severe, they will never truly fade. But I could hurry along the process, if you were so inclined."

"Thank you for the offer, but no."

She finally announced herself done. I hurried to cover myself with a thin robe that wouldn't irritate any injuries.

"It takes a brave soul to bare those sorts of marks with pride." She was cleaning her hands with foul smelling clear liquid. Her eyes inspected me with interest. "Perhaps you will survive this place yet, Eris Black."

"It's doing it's damnedest to kill me off." I smiled without warmth or humour. "It would be an honour to spite it."

She blinked at the response, but bowed deeply at the waist as she turned to leave. I'd surprised her, and she repaid with a show of respect.

Darrow was a little less distraught when we emerged into the living room. But she still ushered me into the armchair with the gentleness you'd afford a baby bird with a broken wing.

"Poor bairn," She cooed, running her chubby fingers through my hair, twisting it this way and that. "Lots of rest, I assume, Willa?" She looked to the healer.

"Exactly that." Willa nodded. She handed a piece of paper over to Kit, who tucked it vigilantly into a fold of her wide skirts. Hidden pocket no doubt. "That's a list of things she needs to do each day. When to change bandages, when to give pain relief, things like that."

"We'll see to it." Robyn nodded.

I was about to tell them, with some indignity, that I could see to it fine. Willa's heavy gaze said she wouldn't trust me with my own care even if the King himself ordered me fit to do it.

Funny, the things your mind can conjure, because a knock on my living room door had every one of us tensing for bad news. The days after a rebel attack were always a little... Stiff, one of the maids had whispered to me in the hall that morning. _Best not to cause a lot of trouble, miss,_ she'd warned me with a kind smile.

Madam Darrow was the one to answer it, ready to order away the fool who'd interrupted my rest, or so she said.

But her irritation dissipated almost as soon as the door swung wide. Her entire demeanour changed.

She dipped into a low curtsy.

"Mammy?" Robyn questioned, concerned.

Darrow was talking, in low voices, to whoever it was stood at my door. There was only a number of people she would curtsy to. I'd thought for a moment it might be Asher, come to check on me, though why I'd assumed that, I wasn't exactly sure. But Darrow wasn't required to curtsy to him, as Guards were not required to salute him.

"Let them in." I called to her, "It's all right."

She was standing like a bear ready to protect it's cubs. Widening her shoulders, hands on her hips. Expanding outwards to present herself as a bigger, more threatening target. The best way to divert the attention from the frailer creatures stood at her back. She did not turn to look at me, and instead stared, with intense disapproval, at the people at my door.

I guess, given her position in the palace, she could glare at the Royals all she wanted.

"It isn't a good idea," She was saying, ignoring my invitation. "She's only just been seen by a healer. She needs rest."

" _Fräulein,_ " I said, firmer. It was a name I'd taken to calling her when she insisted I didn't have to say her full title. This got her to turn, to look at me, curled pathetically in my armchair. "I don't mind."

She said nothing else, but her simmering silence was enough warning for the people in the doorway.

I didn't turn, nor did I stand as they stepped into the room.

I wasn't sure of why they'd come. I didn't care. But this was a delicate game that I was playing, still playing, even now. A rebel attack was not enough to distract me from my ultimate goal of leaving the Palace. Would do me well, for them to look upon me so beaten and battered. Maybe they would take pity, if I cried and wept for home, and they'd send me on my way.

And if that wasn't the case, then the next time I pissed them off, I could always remind them that I saved their sons life.

A strange shift had occurred at the appearance of the Royals. A shift that would not have happened in public, or in front of cameras, but in this room, it was possible. In a room that was mine. Among women I'd come to respect. Wounded and fragile as I was... The focal point, for once, did not belong to the Royals.

They skirted round the edges of my vision, four shapes, two shorter and two taller. The women crowded around me; a sort of human shield. Wide skirts and hips and hands offering me only brief glimpses. The glimpses revealed only bright colours and flashes of shining shoes.

Finally, they managed to navigate their way to stand before me.

Four people stood opposite us, all from the same breed, it seemed.

The King and Queen, side by side. General Aspen, beside them but distanced. On the Queen's left hand, there was another woman. She had long blonde hair, half-twisted into intricate braids behind her head. She had light skin and brown eyes. She was the only one of them smiling.

For a moment, our two companies stared at each other. Madam Darrow's hand appeared on my shoulder, reaching over the back of the sofa. Willa stood at my side, arms folded. Robyn, Kit and Taylor had gathered on the other side of me, crowding and close.

They stood, looking prim and proper, opposite us.

Both groups seemed to be waiting for something.

"It is customary to curtsy before Royalty." It was General Aspen. He said this with pointed firmness. His green eyes were sharp as the tang of cheap vodka.

As one, the women surrounding me did as they were told. Willa did not uncross her arms to bend the knee.

General Aspen's eyes settled on me. I stared back.

"The girl cannot be expected to exert herself." Willa's voice was harsh, and her tone chided them for assuming I would.

"Who are you, to say what the girl can and cannot do?" The General was not giving up this fight, it seemed.

"I'm her healer." Willa snapped right back, her hand coming down to brace against my bicep.

"And why are you deemed necessary? A palace surgeon looked her over."

"Is that so? Then _you_ can ask him why he neglected to disinfect, sew and bandage the wounds I've spent two hours tending. Not to mention his utter idiocy at the lack of a thorough inspection of her leg. The torn ligaments and muscles in her thigh will take weeks to heal."

Suddenly, the General was a little uncomfortable. The King and Queen glanced at each other, a small frown passing between them.

"Why did he neglect his duties in such a way?" The question was directed internally. The blonde woman shook her head, bewildered.

I answered anyway. "He was hurrying to get to a more important patient."

Understanding passed between the group, hurriedly concealed. I got the feeling from the General, and also a little from the Queen, that the surgeon had made the right decision. But the King continued to frown.

"Are there more questions for me?" I asked, before they could say anything else.

" _More_ questions?" Willa asked, eyes flaring wide. "You mean to tell me that you were interrogated immediately after reaching safety?"

"As if the lass had not been through enough." Darrow's hand tightened on my shoulder, her voice astounded. "After the ordeal she went through! After putting herself in harms way for the sake of the Royal Prince! She is not given the care she needs, and _then_ is not even afforded the dignity of rest?"

I had not expected them to care so much on my behalf, and for a dangerous moment I felt close to tears.

Clearly, the Royals had also not expected criticism on their visit.

"We deemed the information she delivered more important-." The General started to defend himself, but this was the wrong thing to do.

"More important?" Darrow seethed, "More important than the young lady in your care? A young woman half a country away from her home, who'd entrusted you with her safety? Whose family expects _you_ to protect her?"

"Two people delivered the information," Taylor's voice was a surprise to all in the room, but it was strong. "The Royal Prince could have been questioned in her stead."

"Lady Eris agreed to the interrogation." Said the Queen, looking to intervene. She was looking uncomfortable, as was the blonde.

Perhaps they thought they were making a grand gesture, by coming. Perhaps they'd thought themselves noble. Come to offer their sympathy and their thanks upon my lowly head.

The women surrounding me were having none of it.

Their support, their fury, soothed the aching in my chest in a way that Willa's medicine would not. A hollowness had settled in me since last night. Anchoring between my lungs, leaching outwards to turn everything surrounding it numb. These women seemed to be thawing that ache with sheer power of will.

"Eris," Willa replied, a little less aggressive as she directed it at the Queen. "Would not have been afforded a choice."

My eyes met with the General's. Willa's assumption was right. He'd appeared almost as soon as the surgeon had left my presence. A Guard had been stood behind him. He'd started demanding questions immediately. He hadn't asked if I was okay. He certainly hadn't asked if I'd felt well enough to provide answers.

The King's eyes followed my own. The General and the King looked at each other, sharp green meeting soft brown. The General looked down. The King looked back at me.

I was a sorry sight.

My knees curled up towards my chest, my shoulders hunched. The bandages on my thigh and forearm were painfully obvious. I knew that the pale canvas of my skin would only serve to make the splashes of blue, purple and crimson more severe. My hair was lank, still straight from the style I'd worn to the Report, greasy, and in some places crusted with blood.

"She seemed well enough-" The General started again, imploring everyone to see his point of view.

"Has anyone ever attempted to rape you, General Aspen?" Darrow's question was all ice as she spat it at the man standing opposite. He stood with his chest puffed and shoulders squared, sure of his absolute authority.

The noise that escaped me was the most pitiful sound I'd ever made. Half protest at the topic of discussion. Half horror at the remembered assault. The terror, the pain, the fury I'd felt as that rebel put his dirty hands on me.

 _At least I had not been helpless._ I chanted to myself. _At least I had my revenge._

It didn't matter; the panic I'd felt in that moment would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Robyn, compelled by the noise I released, dropped to her knees at my side. She leaned over the arm of the chair to grip my hand and lay her forehead against the curve of my shoulder.

All the while, my company stared the General down. It was only as the King turned his head, lifted his brows, did he deign to answer: "No."

"No." Darrow repeated. And if I didn't know any better, I'd have assumed winter had come early this year, such was the searing cold in her voice. "And when you have been hurt, has anyone ever treated you with anything less than the utmost respect?"

"No."

"And has anyone ever denied you the right to medicine? To comfort? To simple privacy?"

"No."

"Then I would ask a question, Sir! Why, for the love of Illéa, has this girl, after being almost raped, beaten, battered, and nearly killed! Been treated worse than a _hound_ in one of your blasted kennels?"

By this point, I was crying. No one, ever in my life, had come to my aid and defence like this.

"I would also like to know why Eris was not evacuated along with the rest of the Selection girls." Willa put in. A dangerous, furious observation. "And why it was _necessary_ to come to her private rooms today without first sending word. So Eris might have been afforded the dignity of receiving Royals in a presentable manner. Or the opportunity to refuse the meeting, for that matter."

"Excellent point." Darrow seemed to stare down the General, because he shifted. "You were a kinder man, in your youth."

This statement seemed to strike the General like a blow, because he shrank back into himself. The Queen reached around her husbands back to seek out his hand. He didn't give it to her.

I was having trouble breathing around the tears. The air escaped my lungs in little gasps, too loud in the silence around these accusations. Robyn held onto me tighter.

"And _why,_ " Taylor again, with quiet outrage. "You haven't yet delivered even the grace of a simple apology."

Looking up, I saw every single person in the room tense. Through red rimmed, puffy eyes, I stared at the Royals and realised the danger of the situation we were all in.

These women were putting their jobs on the line for me. Darrow could lose her position in the household, questioning the Royals like this. Willa, not actually being their employee, could have been arrested. Caned, whipped, hung from a length of rope for the audacity to accuse them, even subtly.

But Taylor, brave and stubborn, demanding that the Royals stand there and apologise to the likes of me... It was scandalous.

Willa might be protected by her distance, Darrow protected by her proximity, but... Taylor was just a maid. To stand and stare a King in the face, and tell him, not ask him, to apologise, was courage I'd never known.

The General and I started speaking at the same time.

"It's not-!" I started to babble around the tears, rushing to undo the damage they'd done. "I'm not that bad-... It's no big deal-!"

"How dare-!" The General seemed to forget his earlier discomfort. "It's completely outrageous-!"

"Quiet." The King murmured, and silence fell like a thick blanket. Immediate, smothering.

"This situation has blown so far from sanity," The Queen gave a little huff that was almost a laugh, "I'm sure that-"

"I said quiet." The King's voice had not risen in volume or sternness, but it no less surprised the Queen. Her sapphire blue eyes flared wide, shocked.

The King didn't look to catch her reaction. Though the crease between his brows told me he wasn't happy with giving his wife such orders. This crease distracted me enough - it was the same pucker of skin that appeared between Asher's eyebrows - that I didn't notice the King move until he was stood before me.

I certainly noticed when he descended to his knees. Lowering himself to rest on those fine trousers.

The armchair was a stout one, and anyhow, King Maxon had a tall body, so we were left eye to eye. Not for long, because he lowered his head to look for my hands. One tucked against my stomach, the other caught by Robyn. He took them, gentle, hooking his long fingers into my palms and drawing them towards him.

Nobody dared moved. I wasn't breathing.

Unbelievably, his head dipped lower, and he kissed each set of knuckles. The smudges of dark blood did not phase him. If he noticed the patches of raised, bumpy scars from past fights, he did not comment on them.

The press of his lips was swift but firm. His hands were soft. Strong but unblemished. Unlike mine, with callouses from swinging tools, and scarred from such frequent violence. I felt ashamed, for a brief moment, of the contrast between our hands.

He looked up at me. The similarities he shared with his son were clear. The nose, the jaw, the eyebrows, he'd passed them all to his eldest boy. The eyes too. The shape was the same, but the colour all wrong. Not only that, there was something in his eyes that I knew to be absent from his sons'. After a moment... I realised it to be kindness.

"Eris Black," He murmured, he still held my hands. "I can only tell you, with absolute and complete earnestness, how truly sorry I am. I welcomed you into my home and made a promise that you would be safe, and I have broken that promise. That failure, to initially protect you, horrified me enough. But the handling of you after that... The utter lack of respect and gentleness with which you have been dealt, infuriates me. I swear to you that I will use every ounce of my power to answer the questions asked."

"Don't be angry with them." I begged, squeezing his hands in desperation. "They were only-"

"Defending you," He interrupted softly, "As they should have. As you deserve, Eris. If they had not done with such ferocity, I have no doubt I'd never have learned of the mistreatment. For that, I will thank them."

The breath left me in a great, whooshing gasp of relief. "Thank you."

"Do not praise me for doing the bare minimum." A strained smile, a light squeeze of my fingers. "And the gratitude belongs to me today. Last night, you saved my son. I doubt he thanked you for it." He didn't pause for me to confirm that Asher had. "I doubt a Guard would have been able to do what you did. I certainly couldn't have. I'm not sure that anyone at all would have fought so hard to get him to safety. I suspect that if it had been anyone but you with my son, I would be in mourning today."

I didn't know what to say.

Thankfully, he saved me the trouble. With another kiss for each of my hands, he stood. Bowed deep at the waist to me and my party.

"I entrust you with the responsibility of her recovery." He said to Willa, but included Darrow in the glance.

The women dipped into curtsies, and the maids swiftly followed suit.

"We'll take our leave." He aimed the statement at his own company, and together they left. The General did not say anything. The Queen seemed too preoccupied to acknowledge us as she hurried after her husband. But the blonde woman offered me a smile and a nod of her head as she filed passed.

Darrow accompanied them to the door and closed it behind them. After a moment she returned. Everyone seemed to release the tension of the last few minutes from every single pore in their body.

"That was..." Willa shook her head.

We looked at each other. No one had any words left.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave feedback! Helpful criticism is welcome! Xo

Words:

Fräulein - Miss in German.


	17. Chapter Seventeen - Mess and Comfort

I woke with a start.

For a second, my head swam, my vision wobbling as I blinked the sleep from my heavy eyes. Glancing around, I squinted into the gloom of the living room, unsure of when and how I'd fallen asleep.

My aching limbs let me know that it had been a bad idea to ball up so tight on the couch. My body folded painfully around a small cushion pinned to my stomach. The blanket thrown over me was tangled in my legs and had trapped a swell of heat underneath it. I could feel sweat on my thighs and stomach, and my hair was damp with it.

What had woke me? I frowned, running a hand on over my face to knock away some of the sleep that was keeping me groggy. Had it been a dream?

"I'm sorry, I can't allow it."

Ah, it was not a dream, but a voice. Hushed, but strained enough that I recognised an almost-argument. Edging towards conflict. I was familiar with this tone of voice, this stiff mutter that warned of pushing too hard. It was the tone that Nike and I used, often when the kids were close, so instead we snapped under our breaths.

"I just want to-"

"She's asleep, Your Highness. Please don't make me disturb her." Robyn, voice respectful but firm.

Who was she protecting me from? Who would be silly enough to come to my door after a warning from the King _and_ Madam Darrow? Plenty would ignore the King, but the Head of the House? Not likely. Only a fool would defy-

"Ash?"

The low voices stopped abruptly.

I shoved myself, struggling under the tangle of blankets, up onto my elbows. Looking for them. They were a pair of mere shadows, gathered at my open door. One tall, broad, imposing in it's vastness. The other willowy, too thin, the face removed.

Asher ducked passed Robyn, compelled into the room by the weak croak of my voice.

From my new vantage point on my elbows, I could see that night had fallen and a fire had been lit in the grate. No wonder I'd been hot with my face angled towards the flames. They were the only source of light in the dim room.

I did my best to struggle up onto my ass, but it was a poor effort.

"Don't struggle, love." Glancing up, I found him watching me. He was stood in front of the armchair, not even a foot away. Leaning forward, but unsure of whether he was welcome to venture within that space. He wanted to.

"How about I do what I want." I replied, if only to make him feel more at ease. I crossed my legs, kicking away the blanket and discarding the pillow I'd been cradling.

Asher's shoulders relaxed and a smile bloomed. He tipped into that bubble of personal space, grateful. His long body folding into the spot before my couch, crossing his legs to better scoot forward.

To my surprise, one of his hands reached for my forearm, the other for my naked knee.

I did not miss Robyn slip like a wraith from the room.

Asher's head twitched, noting too the quiet click of the shutting door. Only then did he speak. "You're okay?"

This was not a time for making jokes. I could see the real, choking panic in his eyes.

I couldn't even reply. Too shocked, because... when did he start to care?

Was it an act? Only yesterday (had so much happened in such little time?) he'd been threatening me so that I'd behave on the Report. He'd been awful. He'd been cruel and unkind and far too rough.

It seemed a different man knelt before me now. Perched on his knees like a subject before a Queen, looking at me like he might even be a little worried. With his gentle hands gripping my skin like he knew I was aching, but also knew I needed comfort. Knew too that my throbbing body felt like shattered glass.

"I will be." I shrugged, I didn't want to go into too much detail. "You?"

He didn't seem satisfied with my answer, but he didn't push. "There's nothing wrong with me."

The slow, jerking movements he'd used as he'd lowered himself to the floor had not escaped my notice. I'd seen too many injuries to be fooled by male bravado.

"Liar." I accused, gentle though. "What is it, your ribs?"

His eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. It was a playful expression, but I received the message. I'd push at his lies but wouldn't reveal my own?

I rolled my eyes. "Willa says it will take weeks for my leg to heal. Torn muscles are tricky. I'll have to wear a thigh brace and ice it daily. I need to rest it as much as possible."

"And everything else?"

"Some of the knife wounds will leave scars, only one or two. The bruises don't hurt. The scrapes and scratches are superficial."

"And the rest?"

"There is nothing else." I frowned at him.

"The _rest_ , love." He scowled at me, " _You_. Are you going to be okay?"

I was still lost. "It'll all heal eventually, Willa is a good healer-"

"I don't care about Willa." He was getting frustrated. "I mean the fact that we were almost killed. The fact that you killed other people. The fact that you were almost-" He choked off, looking away. "That that rebel-... That absolute scum-"

He was starting to panic, working himself up, so I reached to grip his chin. Our gazes brushed, and the hard edge of guilt made my stomach tighten. It wasn't fair that he was carrying the weight of what happened.

Still, I'd vowed to despise this man until the day that I died. Was I willing to share my burdens?

My voice was firm. Steady as I told him the truth of it. "I was hardened long ago to the more... Miserable aspects of this world, Asher. I won't lose sleep over killing those despicable men. As for almost being raped, well..."

I sighed, dropped my hand from his chin. He caught my wrist as it fell. Held it tight. My smile was small, but grateful.

"It panicked me. My skin itches like I'm dirty. Like I'm filthy. The memory of his hands will stay with me long after the bruises fade. But, at the same time, I'm grateful." His eyes flared. "Grateful that it was me in that corridor. Grateful I'd been lucky enough to learn how to defend myself; most women don't have that luxury."

His eyes fell to our hands. To my thin wrist wrapped in his long fingers. To the bruises beneath his fingertips, spooling inky black over my sickly pale skin. His eyebrows were drawn low over his eyes, contemplating my answer.

"You're far stronger than me, you know." Asher spoke at our hands. His voice was a croak, thick with shame.

"There are different kinds of strength, Asher." I said, earnest. I was thinking of Nike, of how she thought I was the brave one, and hated herself for it. But I didn't consider her a coward; I considered her smart.

He didn't answer, so I broached a different subject. One just as delicate. "And how are you?"

"Fine, absolute-"

I scowled, "How about we promise to be honest from now on?"

An eyebrow flicked up, "You sure you could keep a promise like that, darling?"

My mouth opened, indignant, and a grin stretched wide. "Prick."

"All right," He chuckled, "I can't promise not to lie, but I promise to be honest about when I do."

"That makes no sense, but whatever."

Chuckling again, he told the truth. "Cracked ribs. The surgeon says there's nothing to do; they'll heal. Other than that? All bruising. A few scrapes. Nothing major."

I could see that; He had a black eye and a shadow along his jaw. His knuckles were also bruised, and split in one or two spots. He would not have any scars, but I didn't doubt that his torso was a network of vivid, angry colour.

"And the rest?" I flicked my eyebrows up. Teasing him.

A smile to acknowledge my poor joke. "I don't know."

His voice was bleak and he couldn't look at me. Instead the fire drew his gaze, and as he stared he shifted once again. That gold-drenched creature from last night appeared in his place. His eyes were not glittering blue, but hellish yellow. All shadows and sharp edges, like a secret half-hidden. Other-worldly in his beauty.

Though tonight he seemed sad, lost. Whereas last night he'd been daunting in his anger.

"Explain it to me." I coaxed.

His other hand tightened on my thigh. Silence stretched as he gathered his words. "I told you last night that it was almost the worst situation I'd ever been in. Not quite, but almost." He shook his head. "When you got dragged away... And I saw that fucking guy with his hands on you, and you were kicking and crying and I couldn't do anything... It _became_ the worst thing that had ever happened to me."

I opened my mouth, but he carried on speaking.

"It's selfish. Something horrendous happened to you and I'm jumping on the bandwagon of your trauma. I'm not the damn victim; you suffered worse and you got hurt worse and you managed to get us out and I just... But I just..." He shrugged, helpless. "I'm sorry."

Asher still couldn't look at me. His shoulders bent inwards with the weight of his shame. His whole body sagged under it.

It was an automatic thing to reach for him. I'd never been able to resist a lost cause. I seemed drawn to sad souls, plucking them up as I went. Maybe I was looking for souls more damaged than my own.

My free hand curled around the back of his neck, nails scraping through the short hair at the base of his skull. I tugged his head round, insistent, fed up with being gentle.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for." My voice was rough. "You're only a man, Asher. You can't fix everything, and you can't carry everyone. It's not your fault, and it's not mine. Saving me wasn't your responsibility."

"You made it your responsibility to save me." He argued, scowling stubbornly.

"Because I was _capable_ of doing it. You can't blame yourself for something you couldn't control. You did what you could, more than most would have. That's enough, Ash."

His head shook a little, trying to disagree. "You're only trying to make me feel better."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Does it look like I'm in the business of protecting your fragile feelings?"

A laugh burst out of him, a bit strained, but I'd take it. I squeezed his neck, and he squeezed my wrist in reply.

"Asshole." He chuckled, and finally looked up at me. A smile softened the hard edges of his eyes.

I sniffed, not offended. "Yeah, I know."

"There's another thing I have to apologise for." He took a breath, and the smile slipped. "I didn't know you'd been treated like that in the bunker, Eris. My uncle Aspen told me that you were resting when I saw him again. It's no excuse. I should have checked on you myself. I should have made sure-"

"I forgive you." I cut him off, "It's done. Your father apologised too."

"He told me," He nodded, "But I wanted to make sure I did too. And I also wanted to apologise for yesterday."

"Three apologies in one day?" I mused, starting to grin. My eyebrows were high. "Those rebels must have done more damage than I thought."

"Don't be so smug," He pinched my leg, and I laughed. "I was so cruel, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to be treated like that. Though I maintain that you _did_ need the warning to behave." His glare was nothing but playful. The sadness had leeched from his face the same way that ice melts on the tongue. "I know I said a lot of things, but I want... I want us to start over."

"Would this be a bad time to ask if you'll send me home?"

He glared, "Yes, Eris."

"Then..." I pursed my lips, contemplating. My fingers released the grip on his neck, my palm sliding over his broad shoulder. Down the curve of his bare bicep, finding the hand still curved over my knee. My palm covered his knuckles. I was so distracted that the words slipped off my traitorous tongue."Then I suppose I won't ask."

His eyes flared wide. His mouth parted. Blinking with bewildered shock.

My chest heaved, panic settling into the pit of my stomach.

As one, we froze at my words, the both of us astounded. Neither dared to move.

His chest stuttered under his cotton shirt, but he seemed to recover quicker than I managed to.

Movements slow. Wary. Careful not to startle the skittish, frozen doe before him, he moved the hand. Releasing my leg, rotating his wrist so that his palm settled against my palm. His fingers curled around my fingers, swallowing them. His soft flesh scraped against the rough expanse of mine.

He didn't take his eyes off me, and I couldn't take my eyes off him.

"Maybe tomorrow." He said softly.

"Maybe." I agreed. Nodded. I'd ask tomorrow. Of course I would. I'd ask to go home. Which is what I wanted. More than anything. Of course.

His eyes were distracting me.

Asher looked away, towards the fire. Though the grip he had on my hand did not slacken. "Everything I said to you before the Report. None of it stands. I hope you knew that anyway, but I wanted to make it clear. Of course you'll receive the letters from home, and the library is open to you whenever you have a desire for it."

"And Amber?"

He pursed his lips. "I'll talk to my father and see what he says. Though I suppose everyone would like to avoid another scene like the one in the Dining Hall last night."

"Thank you." It was sincere. I even squeezed his hand.

Nodding, he ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand. His hair stuck up every which way, free to flop into any direction it wished. He looked boyish without the careful style. In fact, I'd never seen him out of a suit before. The grey sweatsuit bottoms and cotton shirt made him look... Softer. Less intense.

"It suits you." I said. He frowned. "This." A wave to his attire, unusual for a Prince. "You look more approachable."

He chuckled and shook his head. "It would be a scandal if anyone saw me in this stuff. Father says it's better to always look your best."

I rolled my eyes. "You could wear a torn bed sheet and still look like the stars themselves created you, Asher."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted it. Felt heat rush from my chest, up my throat, settling finally in my face. I didn't want to know what colour that heat was, but I had no doubt it was vivid and painfully obvious.

I was so embarrassed by my compliment that I didn't even want to look at him.

Though it was less a compliment and more a confession. I'd never told him. Never admitted to the fact that I thought him handsome. Stunning. Beautiful, even. From his silence, I knew he was stunned. Maybe even as embarrassed as I was.

Finally, I couldn't take it for a moment longer.

I looked, only to find him watching me with quiet amusement. Eyebrows raised. Sporting a grin which stretched his lips wide. His eyes bright with barely repressed laughter.

I wrenched my hand out of his grasp and crossed my arms over my chest. "Shut up." I growled, turning my head to scowl at the fire.

He burst into laughter. It was loud and completely offensive.

"Oh, come on, love." He pulled at my wrists, but I resisted.

"Piss off." I tried to swat his hands away, but he caught my fingers and tugged my hands forward, still laughing.

"Do you really think of me that way?" He asked, smirking. There was none of that crippling sorrow he'd carried into the room. None of the weight that had bent his shoulders downwards as he'd knelt on the floor.

I'd never seen this smile before. Never had the privilege of making him laugh so freely. Without sarcasm or spite. This too made him seem less rigid. Softer.

My reply was bitter. "No."

"Are you sure?" His eyebrows inched upwards. He dragged on my wrists, playful, pulling me forward on the couch so that I was almost leaning over him. " _Really_ sure? Because you're blushing."

Stars above, my stomach was in knots.

Not that it meant anything. I'd felt odd all day. It had nothing to do with our closeness. Nothing to do with my position above him, so near my hair was resting against his shoulders. So close we were almost nose to nose. Nothing to do with his face being tilted upwards, jaw lifted so it's edge was razor sharp. Nothing to do with the mischievous glint in those bright eyes. Nor the way he held my wrists, fingers strong but not constricting.

"I'm positive." I muttered, trying to look anywhere but into those eyes. Unfortunately, his face occupied the entire width of my vision.

"I appreciate your compliment." He sounded more smug than was necessary. His smile was all teeth. "It means a lot to me."

"Prick."

He chuckled. Seemed to accept the insult. I felt it in his hands as he rocked upwards, felt it too as my knuckles brushed against his stomach. Felt again as he pressed his lips, unbelievably, to the tip of my nose.

My mouth fell open.

He'd kissed me on the nose. On the _nose_. The ridiculousness of it would have knocked me off my feet, had I not already been sitting down.

Pink rushed into Asher's cheeks as he watched my eyebrows rise. Rise in panic and confusion at this strange, bewildering situation we'd fallen into.

"I'd better get going." He muttered, looking away. "It's late."

His actions seemed to have caught up with him. Though he didn't seem to be a stuttering, bumbling mess as I was. He gave my wrists one last squeeze before he released them. Stood up with as much dignity as he could muster, which wasn't exactly much.

"I'll see you at breakfast?"

"Maybe, yeah." I shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. Like nothing had happened.

"Goodnight, love." He was backing away, scrubbing his hands through his hair. Eager to disappear from the tight, charged atmosphere we'd created.

"Night, Princeling." I wasn't looking at him.

Asher retreated. Crossed the room quickly. I tried not to watch him leave. The door opened, the cold air rushing in from the corridor. My eyes stayed locked onto the flames within the grate, though it was a struggle I almost lost.

The door clicked closed. I knew Robyn had come in again, and brought someone else with her. The quiet _thump_ of shoes on the hardwood was loud in the silence that followed Asher's departure.

"So..." Kit's voice was nonchalant. "How'd it go?"

* * *

Thank you for reading! Comments are appreciated! Xo


	18. Chapter Eighteen - A Gun and Traitors

"You're really okay?" Rolan asked.

It was Saturday morning and I'd already had breakfast in the kitchens with the soldiers. Madam Darrow had allowed them into her sacred space after I'd pleaded their innocence, though she'd swiftly regretted her decision after Shade and Dune had devoured a full pack of sausages and a dozen slices of bacon between them.

Rolan had caught me on the way out of the Staff Wing, and though Molly and Billy had been about to escort me back to my rooms, Rolan had told them he'd do it. The two of them hadn't looked exactly happy about his tone of voice, but I hadn't managed to see much of him since the rebel attack the Saturday before, so I'd waved them away.

"My leg is healing well, according to Willa." I nodded, delivering the same report I'd relayed a good seven times already. "The pain has faded a bit, so I'm able to put my weight on it now. She says I'll be able to walk around without help by next week."

"How come they've not given you crutches?"

"No need. By the time a pair would have arrived for me, I wouldn't need them." I shrugged. "Plus, she says the quicker I start exercising the muscles, the quicker they'll heal."

"That's good news." He didn't act like it was though. In fact, his arm around my waist was stiff and his fingers were digging into my ribs harder than I thought necessary. He was frowning at the floor.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I heard the Report was cancelled this evening." He said instead of answering me.

"Um, yeah. There was a lot of damage done to the studio last Saturday, so it's not ready yet. We'll do a Report next Saturday instead."

He nodded again, and the sunlight streaming through the tall windows reflected back from his bronze hair, highlighting the red in it. "You've been avoiding me."

Ah, so here was his problem. "I've been busy." And I had; Amber had been taking up a lot of my time, especially since the Queen had seemed to relax her grip on the Princess after Tuesday. She'd been allowed to see me after her schooling every day, and we'd stay together usually until dinner. When I wasn't with Amber, I was usually in the Staff Wing or with Luna and Lauren.

"Too busy to see me?" His murky green eyes were harder than I'd ever seen them as he finally turned to look at me.

"How was I to know where you were?" I demanded, finally too annoyed with his tone. If Patch had spoken to me like this back home, I'd have given him a punch for it.

"Bet you're quite aware of the Prince's whereabouts, though." He snapped back. He let go of my waist and stepped away.

"What're you talking about?"

"I heard that you spent yesterday with him." His eyebrows rose, and the sharp line of his jaw dared me to argue.

I was never good at turning down dares. Even dangerous ones.

"I spent yesterday with Amber. Asher happened to find us." I told him, slowly and fiercely. "We threw a ball to each other in the gardens for a bit. We barely talked. Even if we did, what is it to you?"

"You hate him. Or you did, anyway."

Immediately, I wanted to defend myself. Tell him that of course, of course I hated Asher. My feelings towards him had not changed. Would never change. But Amber had been eager to play with her brother, and Asher had a spare half hour. So what?

"How is this your business, Rolan?" I asked, frowning at him. "What gives you the right to be angry?"

"Probably the same right that would make that bastard Prince angry about us in that courtyard last Saturday."

"We didn't get engaged." More growl than actual words, now. "You have absolutely no claim over me. The fact you'd even throw that in my face-"

"No claim?" He chuckled without humour and shook his head. "Nobody else would think the same if they found out. You'd be damaged goods."

My insides turned cold with fury. I had no idea where this had come from. Had not seen a hint of this side of him before now. Of course, I'd only known him for a week before we'd kissed. Only caught him a few moments at a time. People had warned me that he'd had a foul attitude before we'd met. Maids had warned me that he'd had a temper. Even Darrow said he kept to himself, and liked it that way.

Now I understood why.

"Go away, Rolan." I said, with barely repressed anger. "Don't seek me out again."

I turned to walk away. Hobble away. It didn't matter. If this conversation continued, it would escalate. I was not above punching him straight in the face, but it wouldn't do for a Guard to walk around with a bloody nose. That was something I could really get in trouble for; they were considered property of the King. That's why people were punished so harshly for hurting one.

Of course, that's the moment he grabbed me. Not too violently. But he grabbed my wrist and twisted me back to face him, which wrenched on my injured thigh. The pain made me grit my teeth, but I was too proud to make a sound.

"You're overreacting." He told me, head bent low to mine. His words were fierce. "This isn't a big deal, Eris. I just... I just want you to myself, that's all. Maybe you should just-" He took a breath, his hand tightening on my arm. "Maybe you should just ask to leave the Selection, and everything will be fine."

"I'm not yours to keep." I spat at him, twisting my wrist. He didn't let go. He'd backed me into the wall. "What is wrong with you, Rolan? You seemed so kind."

"I am," he nodded earnestly. "I am kind. I'll be so kind to you."

His breath washed over me, and I smelled alcohol. It was so strong my eyes watered.

"You're drunk." I informed him. Though he wasn't drunk enough to act clumsy, just drunk enough to act brave, I supposed. "Get off me, and we'll forget all about this. You can apologise when you're sober."

This only seemed to anger him. "I'll apologise? _Me?_ Like I'm the one that has anything to be sorry for? You fucking told me you _hated_ him. Then you go and save his life! Save his life and then spend time with him! That prick who is just-"

"I don't care what your opinion of Asher is." I ground out. It was an effort to contain the violence building in my muscles. In the back of my throat. Behind my eyes. It was like an energy all too eager to burst free. "I care that you're hurting me. If you don't let go, I'm going to hurt you."

"Hurt me? You?" He had the nerve to smirk at me. "Listen, everything can go back to normal. I'll forgive you, Eris. But I'm warning you-"

The weak tether I'd been grasping snapped like a twig beneath my heal. At that condescending tone, my temper rolled up like a surging wave, and I'd moved before I had consciously made the decision to do so.

He was grasping my left hand, the weaker one, so I wasn't too hindered by his grip. I whipped my right hand up, laying my fist right into the center of his stomach. Always a good place to hit; there was a lot of important organs around that area. He hunched, the breath leaving him.

I wasn't done; yanking my left hand free, I backhanded him across the face. Not as much power in the left hand, but the momentum of my body thrown behind it certainly made up for that.

He stumbled back, cheek rosy red. He put a hand to it, as if it might have been bleeding. I wanted it to be. I wanted to see blood on his face.

Rolan looked up at me, and there was violence in his eyes. I sighed. Why was it trouble just seemed to find me?

He leaned forward, as if to lunge, and I braced myself for the impact, tilted my injured leg away so it wouldn't be too badly damaged by the fight we were about to have.

The fight that ended, abruptly, when a gun appeared in the space beside Rolan's head.

It was being held by a young black woman, wearing a soldier's cargo trousers and heavy boots. She was smaller than Rolan, and had to aim the gun upwards for it to touch his temple, but it didn't stop her looking like some kind of vengeful warrior, appearing out of nowhere to protect those weaker than herself.

I stumbled back, shocked and unsteady with the force of the pent up energy escaping my body. Rolan tensed.

"Piece of shit," She cursed him around a thick accent. "Not exactly noble, trying to fight someone whose already injured."

"This isn't any of your damn business," Rolan spat at her, but didn't move.

"See this gun in my hand?" She thumbed back the hammer until it clicked for emphasis, "This makes it my damn business. Now run along, before my finger slips."

Rolan's eyes were still on me. "You're going to let her order me away?"

"Run along." I jerked my head down the corridor. "Before I ask to borrow the gun."

His eyes tightened, but he started to back away. He kept his eyes on us, and the woman kept the gun raised until he'd turned his back and started down the corridor. Then the gun lowered, but she watched him until he'd turned the corner and disappeared.

"You really know how to make friends." She said, without looking at me. Her jaw was clenched.

"It's a gift of mine." I replied, sighing. I wondered how Rolan would act when he'd sobered up. I hope it took a few days for him to approach me again, because by that time my leg would have healed a little, and I could kick his ass in a more thorough manner.

"Your mother named you well." Her eyes were on me now, and her gaze was shrewd enough that I knew she was considering pointing the gun at me. As a reward for my sheer idiocy, probably.

Now that I was breathing again, I looked at her. Her dark hair was shaved close to her head, not entirely bald, but close to it. She was small, petite almost, but stood in such a way that made her seem bigger than she was. Her wide stance and squared shoulders, the flat black of her eyes made her seem quite formidable.

I wasn't in the mood to deal with formidable.

"I'm pretty sure she cursed me." I told her, referring back to my mother. "Cursed all of us, even."

"Names hold power." She nodded, seriously. "Where I come from we name our babies carefully, so as not to anger any higher powers."

"Higher powers?" I tilted my head, "Like... Kings and Queens?"

She smiled at me the same way you'd smile at a child. "No, Eris Black. But now is not the time to discuss the history you have forgotten. I'm here to deliver a message."

My insides ran cold. "Are you with the Network?"

She hissed harshly, and grabbed my arm. After a quick, sharp glance up and down the corridor, she shook her head. "Come. It is too open here."

Her arm went around my waist. We started to move as quickly as I was able. We went in the opposite direction Rolan had fled. After turning down a few empty corridors, she pulled me into a room that seemed to be an empty guest room. The decor was grand, like in my own rooms, but less feminine. Probably for Ministers and Advisers who decided to stay the night rather than return to their city dwellings.

"Yes, I work with the Wise Women." She said as she closed the door behind us. "They have a number of workers in the palace, though I only know two others. One who passes information on to me, and one I pass information on to. This way, if any of us are discovered and interrogated, we only lose a small number of the whole operation."

"That sounds like an unstable method." I frowned, "Clever, but if one trio of the chain is discovered, then the whole chain collapses."

A swift smile. "You are smart, Eris Black. I'm glad. I thought you would not be impressive as is rumoured."

"That's me." I deadpanned, "Impressive. Incompetent. Somewhere in the middle, I guess."

She pursed her lips, looking very much like she wanted to take that compliment back. I didn't blame her. I was all jittery. I could feel the anxiety building in my stomach, adding pressure to my insides. It wasn't exactly going to be good news, was it? Worry made me stupid, made me too willing to open my big mouth. Only anger usually did that to me.

"I have news from home." She said finally. She was measuring me. I'd had that look before. I got it all the times in the Pits, men and women both sizing me up. Wondering whether or not they could beat me in a fight. Judging the lack of height and the bright, stupid hair. Measuring the weight of my stare and the scars already littering my knuckles.

I was losing focus. I needed to listen to her. But panic made my mind stutter. Made it light up like someone had set my skull on fire. I was going to burn from the inside if she didn't carry on talking.

"Who died?" I asked, and my voice shook.

"No one." I stumbled over to the double bed and took a heavy seat on the made bed. A maid was going to be very angry that I'd messed up her good work. "But... Jax Healy did try to infiltrate your home late yesterday evening."

My breath rushed out of me like a popped balloon. That bastard. That absolute rotten bastard. I knew he hadn't been just trying to panic me. He was really serious about going after my family. After the house. He'd waited long enough. Let me stew, let me worry, let me get a little comfortable with the idea that he wasn't going to do anything. No doubt the Gruks that had been posted outside my home had got lazy as well. Hadn't been too bothered protecting a mere orphanage, after all the trouble I'd given the local Gruks over the years.

Then Jax had made his move.

"We had people there. Only one at the time, but he was armed enough that he held them off until help arrived. We hear that your sister helped defend the house."

Nike. Little Nike. It wouldn't have been Mania, she wouldn't have had the nerve. But Nike would have died to defend the kids. She'd have rather died than let a person, even someone she didn't know, die for her.

I'd set a bad example over the years.

"She's okay?" I choked. I was having trouble smothering tears.

"She's fine." She was eyeing me warily. Probably wondering if I could handle the rest of her news. Because there must be more. Had to be. Else why bother telling me?

"What else?" I demanded.

"Healy..." She looked away from my gaze. "He went after someone else once he'd failed to get into the house."

"Who was it?" She took a breath, "Who was it, dammit?!"

"Patch Sallow." She muttered. "Patch Sallow was taken from his house late last night. He was returned to it early this morning."

I slid off the bed and hit the floor with a thump. Pain lanced through my thigh, but I barely felt it. Welcomed the agony, in fact. It was less than I deserved.

"Is he alive?" It might have been a whisper, it might have been a shout. I wasn't sure; my ears weren't working properly. All I could hear was a deafening, horrendous roaring. Like the sea was somewhere in the distance.

She knelt down in front of me and gripped my wrists tightly. I didn't feel the pressure.

"Barely."

* * *

"Ris?" The knock came tentatively on the bathroom door. "Ris? Are you done?"

I slumped against the wall. It was cool at my back. The shirt I was wearing was thin. Too thin; I was freezing. It was Patch's shirt. Practically all of the shirts I had with me belonged to him.

How could I have let this happen? How could... It was all my fault. I should have killed Jax years ago. I should never have left. I should have... I didn't do enough...

"Ris?"

"Leave me alone!" It came out louder and harsher than I'd wanted. I didn't want to chase away Robyn and Kit. They made the palace so much more bearable.

But I felt like the ground was swallowing me. I felt like I'd been dunked in an icy bath. I felt like... Felt like...

I twisted until I was hunched over the toilet and threw up noisily. Again. I was sure I'd already got rid of my breakfast, but it seemed like there was still more for my body to force up and out.

"Ris..." The door opened tentatively.

Hands on my back. The warm press of a palm between my shoulder blades. The quiet, solid comfort brought tears to my eyes, and all at once sobs wracked my body. My shoulders bent inward with the force of them. It was the sort of tears that physically bent your body in half. The sort that rushed up from your stomach.

"Oh, honey..." Strong hands pulled me away from the toilet and into the middle of the tiled bathroom floor. I was tucked into a chest. Too small to be Kit's; must have been Robyn's.

The toilet flushed.

"Was it something she ate at breakfast?" Kit's asked, worried. I could picture her wringing her hands, flitting around, bouncing on her toes with anxiety. "Shall I fetch Willa?"

"She's not physically sick." Taylor's voice. Strong. Steady. I was surprised she was here. "Something must have happened."

"What is it?" Robyn demanded, voice high pitched and strained. "Did somebody do something? Did somebody hurt you? Upset you? Ris?"

"Let her breathe!" Taylor snapped. "Damn, just let her gather herself."

I was still sobbing. Struggling to breathe. But I let Robyn hold me at arms length and tried to wipe the snot and salty tears from my face. I tried to give her the best answer I could.

"I have-... I have... I have to get, get out of here." I wasn't sure they'd managed to catch the clumsy words.

"What're you talking about?" Kit knelt behind Robyn so I could see her. "What's going on?"

"I have to go home." I said, stronger.

Through hiccups and half-gasps, I managed to tell them the story. Glossing over the part about Rolan, I told them of the soldier and how she'd been part of the Network. I relayed to them the same message she'd given me.

By the time I was finished, I wasn't quite as deranged. Maybe still a little shaky, but at least I didn't feel like I was going to puke again.

"Maybe you can get sent home on the grounds of a family emergency?" Kit offered, looking saddened by the idea.

"Patch isn't family." Taylor replied before I could. "King Maxon might have sent her home, had it been his Selection. However, Prince Asher has already demonstrated that he wants her to stay."

"And he's well aware of Eris's desperation to go home." Robyn nodded. "He might suspect that this is just another attempt at orchestrating her departure."

"The Gruks weren't involved either." I told them. "So it's not like there'd even be an official report to prove what happened."

The four of us looked at each other, helpless.

"Well, what could you really do anyway, Eris?" Taylor's eyebrows flicked up.

"Don't be mean," Kit implored her desperately.

"I'm not being mean, I'm being practical." Taylor frowned back, and pushed up her glasses. "Patch has been delivered home. I assume the Wise Women are taking care of him. You have no medical experience or expertise, so it's not like he'll die if you don't get home right this moment. You're injured, and badly at that, so it's not like you'd be much use in a fight right now. After the attack, the Network will have increased security, so they're not at risk right this moment."

"That makes a lot of sense," Robyn said, rubbing a hand down my back.

I sighed. Of course it did. But still. "You want me to do nothing? Carry on? Patch would rush home for me. How can I not rush home for him?"

"I'm not saying you should just sit here. I'm saying you shouldn't throw yourself recklessly into a stupid situation more likely to put you in prison than on a plane. I'm saying there's no need for hysterics. I'm saying that a calm and level head will do you more good than sobbing on a bathroom floor will."

The three of us stared at her. Kit with disapproval, Robyn with quiet scorn. I was simply impressed. I appreciated tough love. I was good at tough love. So it seemed that Taylor was too. It was not cruelty in her eyes, it was a fierceness that said she did not expect weakness from me.

She expected better.

I took a breath. Wiped my face clear. Held out my hands to her. She nodded tersely and pulled me to my feet. We stared at each other, me up at her and her down at me. Her hands around mine squeezed once. The only sort of support she felt comfortable giving me. I didn't feel hurt when she dropped my hands.

"So, what are we going to do?" Robyn asked, a bit confused by the exchange but ready to help, all the same.

I smiled at her, grateful. Grateful for all of them. I hadn't believed that I could find anyone worthwhile in this palace, but I'd found friends in them. I would keep these friends even when I left. I'd make sure of it.

"We're going to do some research." I said. "And then we're going to plan."

"Tea first, though?" Kit asked, hopeful.

* * *

"We'll have to check the library." Robyn suggested.

"I'll ask Eddie." I nodded. The three of them looked at me, Kit smiling widely. "What? As if I didn't make friends with the librarian."

Taylor rolled her eyes.

We'd just come back from the Staff Wing. Darrow had been a bit suspicious of our questions, but she hadn't revealed much of importance. Apparently, nothing much out of the ordinary had happened during King Maxon's Selection. Nothing too scandalous. She'd reported that King Clarkson had harboured a dislike for his future daughter-in-law, but nothing so horrid.

"Researching the old Selection's is a good idea, but we still need a plan." Kit said.

I'd been contemplating all day. I was pretty sure I already had one half-formed.

"Knowing what got girls kicked out in previous Selection's will help with that." Robyn nodded.

"I think I've already got a bit of an idea," I told them in a mutter. You could never be too sure about who was watching in the palace. "However, I need to know how much trouble I could actually get into if I do it."

"Maybe there's an archive somewhere." Robyn said.

"Maybe there's a rule book." I wondered aloud, "Maybe there'll be a huge long list of rules that I can break one by one."

"I'd advise against that."

The voice made me jump, and I whirled in fright with a very unimpressive shriek. Of course, this only served to make me stumble on my weak leg. Strong hands caught me at the elbows and kept me upright.

Looking up, I was unsurprised by the cool blue eyes that met mine. Though what did surprise me was the grin on his face. He had another man with him, shorter, with dark hair and green eyes.

"Ash." I said, in as dignified a manner as I possibly could. I hopped backwards, brushing down the sleeves he'd been holding.

"Eris." He inclined his head. His hair was done neatly, smoothed into a sharp comb-over. His suit today was of deep emerald. A good colour; it brightened his pale complexion. "Was there a certain sort of rule book you were searching for?"

"No." I shrugged innocently.

"It wouldn't be one for the Selection, would it?" His eyebrows rose.

"That's ridiculous." I rolled my eyes, "Why... Is there one?"

Robyn sighed heavily. Asher tipped his head back and laughed. "No, unfortunately for you. Fortunate for the rest of us, I imagine."

I merely scowled at him. Then I remembered my manners. "Oh. Asher, these are my friends. Robyn, Kit and Taylor." I pointed to each in turn.

Asher's eyebrows rose, but he turned to them with a gracious smile and bowed charmingly at the waist. "Ladies. So good to meet the women who tend to Eris with such devotion."

"She doesn't need much tending." Kit smiled, dipping her head.

"Just constant vigilance and supervision." Robyn smiled sweetly. My mouth dropped open in protest.

"I can imagine," He grinned, "I've never known trouble to hound a person quite so thoroughly."

"It requires all three of our combined efforts to keep her contained." Kit reported happily.

"Even then we struggle." Taylor said, deadpan.

"I am... So insulted." I scowled at the three of them. "Traitors."

Asher was wearing the most diabolical grin I'd ever seen. "You should have introduced me to them sooner, love." He slapped his companion on the back. "This is my friend, Peter Leger."

My own eyebrows inched higher, and I extended my hand. Peter shook, smiling uncertainly at my inspection.

"I'm sorry, it's just quite astounding." I told him, still staring.

"What is?" He seemed nervous, and his pretty green eyes shifted to Asher for help.

"The fact that Asher Schreave has a friend."

Peter, despite himself, burst into laughter. Asher's face dropped into one of objection. "We were forced together from childhood." Peter told me, still chuckling. "It was entirely against my will."

"Makes sense." I smiled.

"You should have introduced us sooner, Asher." Peter said, giving him a light elbow to the ribs. Asher was scowling, though his eyes were amused. There was no weight to the frown that I could see.

When our eyes met, he smiled freely and it took me only a moment to smile back without much trouble.

"Well." Robyn said, loud enough that I looked round. "The three of us have to be in the kitchen's for dinner. We missed lunch."

Kit looked at her wrist, though it was devoid of a watch. "We're late already, actually."

"It's only four." I frowned at her.

"Darrow says dinner is early tonight." Taylor informed me. "She told us at breakfast."

"Yes," Peter cut in, "Actually, thank you for reminding me. I've got an appointment."

"What sort of appointment?" Asher frowned at him.

"Ah. Well, I told my mother I'd meet her for tea." He smiled, though didn't look Asher in the eyes.

"We were on our way out to the kennels." Asher said, pointedly.

I was shifting awkwardly, glaring daggers at the girls. They were inching down the corridor, back the way we came. The gap between myself and them was getting steadily wider.

"I forgot about mother." Peter shrugged helplessly. "Sorry. I'll catch you later, though?"

"See you later, Eris." Kit and Robyn said together. Taylor was already disappearing around the corner. Peter hurried after them.

"Guys-!" I called.

"Peter-!" Asher hissed.

They were gone. All four of them.

Asher and I were left staring after them side by side.

"I would like new maids." I informed him, without looking.

"No problem." I saw him nod from the corner of my eye, "The next time you see Peter, please inform him that he's sentenced to death."

"Gotcha."

We stood in thick silence for a moment, staring out at the empty corridor that faced us. I didn't know what to say, and it was clear he didn't either.

"It's okay." Asher took a breath, "I've got things to do anyway, so I'll just, um... Go."

He turned, started to walk back down the corridor, the way he'd arrived.

"Asher." I said, sighing. I heard him stop walking. "I... My leg."

He was beside me again in a moment, blushing fiercely. "I'm sorry. I forgot. I'll help you back to your suite, of course." His eyes flicked up to meet mine, then flitted to the floor. "Unless... You would like to do something else?"

I hesitated. We hadn't spent time alone since he'd come to my rooms on Sunday. Before that, we'd never been alone together without it eventually ending in an argument. I wondered... If we'd even enjoy each other's company.

But then, I'd sworn today to try harder at being sent home. Patch needed me. The orphanage needed me. After what Jax had done, Patch deserved a best friend who rushed home.

"We don't have to." Asher was blushing brighter, eyes firmly fixed on the floor and jaw clenched hard. He was embarrassed. "I know we don't... Well, I know how you feel about me."

My insides melted. Asher had been through a lot too. He'd been so kind on Sunday. He'd been friendly all this week too. I wanted to go home, of course, but it didn't mean I had to treat him poorly. Besides, he seemed to be trying his hardest to be nice. It was only right I do the same.

"I'd like to do something." I said, and he looked up at me quickly. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

I'm sorry I've not uploaded in a while! University has been crazy, and my workload has kept me busy! But I'm writing again and hopefully you'll get chapters on the regular! Xoxo


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